No Ordinary Family
by Cecelia Pemberly
Summary: After Kurt meets Blaine's conservative family, he knows something isn't quite right with them, but for the sake of Blaine's happiness, he is willing to dig deep in order to find out about his Senator father.
1. Dinner with the Buchanans

When Kurt pulled into the driveway of the address Blaine had given him, he felt that he must have taken a wrong turn onto Pennsylvania Avenue and ended up at the White House somehow. He already had enough trouble getting through the entrance gate, and the houses in the area were so _grandiose_ that he was had missed the right streets a handful of times as he simply admired what a lot of money could buy. The house of the Buchanans lay at the end of a smooth stone driveway, where there was ample room for Kurt to park his tiny Honda Civic. "Great Gatsby…" He admired the beauty of the house and gardens as he walked up the front pathway in his dress slacks, matching black vest, tie and white dress shirt under his wool trench coat. He was almost intimidated by the pillars, stone and old-fashioned lanterns as he thought of his tiny, _normal, _house back in Lima. The doorbell toned a tune as Kurt waited, looking around at everything around him until the door was answered by a man in a suit. "Mr. Buchanan?" The man laughed.

"If only. They're waiting for you, sir. I'll take your coat for you." Kurt's eyes widened. A _butler?_ How much expendable income did this family have? Was the Great Gatsby really a nonfiction story and these people were the product of old money piling on top of each other? How was Blaine as humble as he was with _this _surrounding him every day? So many questions filled his mind that he didn't even realize that the reason he came had appeared before him.

"Earth to Kurt, do we have a problem?" Blaine asked as he smiled. Kurt jumped and smiled at him, before he threw a hug around his savior. He felt Blaine chuckle deep in his chest as he tightened his arms around him. "I'm so happy to see you. You look dashing."

"You know, you should have told me just how much sticker shock I would suffer. I'm having some heart palpitations because of your butler." He saw the well dressed man walk by with a grin on his face at the comment.

"Oh, George has been with us for years. It's just like any other job he could have. Plus he says we give him some great benefits. Come on, my parents are in the living room." Kurt half expected Blaine to take his hand, but when they let go of each other, Blaine did nothing of the sort. Then the guest remembered what he had said about Mr. Thomas Buchanan. He was as conservative as they could come, and as tightly strung as a fiddle. His mother was more flexible, and allowed the dinner to happen in the first place.

Blaine took Kurt through the foyer and into a…drawing room? It was more elegant than any living room he'd ever seen, especially due to the lack of a television and the addition of framed paintings, antique furnishings, draperies and ornate rugs. The chairs and sofas were set for conversation, but Kurt couldn't see the faces of Blaine's parents when they walked in. Only when he sat down did he realize that his father looked like a young Robert Redford, with light, straight brown hair, piercing dark blue eyes and a handsome countenance, though he lacked a smile. His mother was equally beautiful, carrying herself regally with her blonde hair curled, and for a moment Kurt thought that was where Blaine got his curls, but upon closer examination, he could see that they were too neat to be natural, unless she was a goddess, which may have been very likely with her flawless figure in a pale blue dress that fit perfectly with her porcelain skin, and her pearly white teeth that smiled elegantly at him.

"So you're Kurt. Blaine has spoken quite highly of you."

"Thank you Mrs. Buchanan. Your son has really been a great example to me." He swore he heard his father grumble and turn away just slightly, on the opposite side of the couch from his wife, but she didn't seem to notice, so Kurt let it slide. "Your house is quite beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."

"I wouldn't imagine that there are many homes like this in Kansas." Blaine shifted uneasily in his chair.

"If you mean Lima, no there aren't. Then again, what can you expect from a city named after a bean?" The woman laughed, but Blaine's father didn't so much as lift the corners of his mouth in a smile. Kurt cleared his throat and crossed his legs, at least until Mr. Buchanan drilled his stare into Kurt. He uncomfortably set his feet flat on the ground, because it was easier than crossing his legs the manly way. Thankfully, George came in just as things began to get uncomfortable.

"The first course is about to be served, madam." She smiled at George, and stood up with as much elegance as she sat. "Well, there's no use in letting the food get cold." Mr. Buchanan stood up, but only after Blaine and Kurt had left the room and entered the _formal _dining room, with four places set, with multiple forks, several plates and a bowl, as well as a wine glass. Blaine and Kurt sat across from each other, while his parents flanked the ends. George took the bowls from each setting, and returned shortly after with them filled with a soup that made Kurt's mouth water. He waited for everyone to get their portion, as well as a breadstick, before he took up his spoon, at least he thought it was the right spoon until Blaine picked up the larger spoon off his setting, and smiled at Kurt, but no words were exchanged between the family while they ate. Kurt didn't like that at all. When he ate with his father, that was when they had the most conversation, and they learned about each other's days, future plans, and how they were doing in general. Kurt fidgeted under the table.

"This room is very nice-"

"You've already said that." Kurt turned toward Mr. Buchanan, who merely kept sipping his soup as if nothing had been said. He wasn't going to let Blaine's father beat him like another bully.

"What kind of business are you in, Mr. Buchanan?" Kurt asked as he mimicked the man's expression and kept eating. He didn't answer, so his son answered for him. "He's a Congressman." Kurt choked and looked at the man.

"Sorry, wrong pipe."

"Do you know anything about your government, boy?"

"I'll admit that I don't know too much, but I chose not to, because the government is so restrictive on people like your son and I." He grumbled.

"Well, change is only brought on by knowledge and understanding." Kurt could have retorted with several phrases, but this was a fancy dinner with the one he secretly loved, so he kept his mouth shut.

Dinner passed without a hitch, mostly because the Congressman was silent. Blaine's mother was a pleasant woman, and while she seemed to lack a voice a true voice in the relationship, she spoke to Kurt more freely than her husband. Once Kurt had figured out which utensil belonged to which dish, and was full after the soup, salad, entrée and dessert, the family moved out of the dining room and back into the drawing room, where George had lit a fire. Kurt and Blaine were still forced to the two separate chairs across from the adults on the sofa, but after a cup of coffee, Blaine stood.

"It wouldn't be a complete trip to our house if you haven't seen my room, Kurt." After almost an hour of silence, Mr. Buchanan spoke out.

"Oh no, nothing you can say or do can't be said or done in front of us!" Kurt turned fuchsia, and almost instinctively turned toward Mrs. Buchanan for help.

"Settle down, dear. Blaine wouldn't do such a thing." The color of both of their cheeks darkened red even further. "Go ahead, darling." Blaine nodded, and the two boys quickly exited the room. Blaine took him up the grand staircase, across the catwalk, down the hall and to the last door on the right, where a plate engraved _Blaine Andrew Buchanan _was bolted on the dark wooden door. When he opened it, Kurt just about fainted. It was the most amazing bedroom he'd ever seen in real life. It was cozy, yet elegant with its velvet drapes, Victorian furnishings and a heavily covered four poster bed. "Wow…I can't believe you traded this for a Dalton dorm room."

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I haven't been very vocal about what happened to me, but now I think that you have a right to know."

* * *

So, first chapter! Before anyone says anything, I KNOW that Blaine's popular last name is Anderson. I'm just taking creative liberty while he is technically still lastnameless and calling him Buchanan, after the family in the Great Gatsby, yes. Reviews make me update faster, please tell me what you think!


	2. In the Name of Love

Kurt was almost shocked by the words that fell out of Blaine's mouth. _I think that you have a right to know. _Blaine said he'd never told anyone, and no one but the parties involved knew what had happened years ago. Kurt noticed a change in the young man's posture, and his inherited regal carriage slouched down as he walked over to the bed, so tall that his feet couldn't reach the ground. He looked down between his legs, and sighed heavily. Kurt walked over to the bed, but did not sit down.

"You don't need to tell me if you aren't comfortable with it."

"Sometimes you need to do the uncomfortable thing for progress. That's what I've learned from having a politician dad." Silence fell between them, until Blaine looked up. "You can sit down." Kurt quickly threw himself onto the bed, because he felt he would fall off if he just fell back. "Are…are you enjoying yourself? You seem to be taking my dad well, for him being as awful as he is."

"He is a little intimidating, but no more than anyone else at McKinley. He hasn't shoved me into a locker, so he has a better opinion from me than Karofsky." Blaine sighed.

"You know how people say that rich people may look happy, but they're really not? Well, we're the same way. There is no balance, no yin and yang, no peace in this house. It's a constant state of tension."

"So I've noticed." Kurt was itching to put his hand on Blaine's but he was afraid that his father would walk in. He was afraid, and yet hopeful that hand-holding would evolve into something more, even if it was just a kiss, but this was dangerous territory, and love couldn't be risked in a battlefield.

"I can't stay quiet anymore. I might just explode, and do something I really regret." Blaine took a deep breath in, and to Kurt's surprise, reached over and took his hand and gave it a comfort squeeze. After he gasped in shock, Kurt put his free hand over the other boy's and gave him a look that urged him to keep going, but only if he felt comfortable to. "This house is a prison to me. I feel like my every move is being watched, and one false step will set off the alarm and I'm done for." Kurt felt Blaine squeeze his hand once more. "The truth is, my situation is a little different than yours. I…" He looked nervously around the room, as if waiting for ninjas to come out of the ceiling or a tornado to hit. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I can't do this." He let Kurt's hand out of his grip and stood up, until he was across the room in a shadow. Kurt slowly followed him, but kept his distance. He tried to listen for sobs, but they weren't there.

"Blaine, this is obviously hurting you to say anything. Does it hurt more to speak than it does to keep it in?" He kept a calm tone, but he tried not to sound like a therapist. The silence ensued, but Kurt could have waited all day. This wasn't about him anymore. It wasn't about his discomfort, or his bullying, or his broken heart. It was about the suffering of the young man that had saved his life, at least at first, before Karofsky made his death threats, but that wasn't important anymore. Blaine was aching, like he'd never seen him ache before. He'd never seen him show such vulnerability, if any at all.

"I have my reasons for not speaking. Plus if I tell anyone, they can't tell anyone either, and it would just create a burden for multiple people. I don't want that. This is my burden to carry." He took a deep breath and collapsed into a nearby armchair, and only then did Kurt approach him. His head had fallen back down in defeat, and what hurt Kurt the most was that he didn't know how to fix his problem. It was a silent assassin, attaching swiftly in the dark, and moving too quickly to return fire. Kurt stood in front of the slouching boy, and sat down on the arm.

"I don't want to make you do anything uncomfortable, but I will say if you ever want to lessen the weight on your shoulder, you can tell me. You can call me at 3 in the morning, I won't care, and I'll pick up." He smiled at his crush, who looked up at him, but couldn't smile as brightly as usual. Kurt's thigh tingled at the closeness, but he felt that it wasn't an appropriate time to feel attraction. It was falling in love at a funeral. He just wanted to hug Blaine and say "I love you so much, I don't want you to hurt anymore because you are the most important person in my life and I would DIE if it meant that you wouldn't suffer anymore!"

But he couldn't.

He jumped when he heard a beep, like the principal coming over the intercom at school. "Master Blaine, your parents request your presence in the game room."

"George, you don't need to call me, Master. We've been over this before." There was laughter over the speaker.

"Just trying to impress your friend. We are just that kind of house." Kurt heard him click off. "Game room?"

"We're just that kind of house." Kurt rolled his eyes and stood up.

"Well…what kind of games are we playing?" Blaine stood up, and put his hands on Kurt's waist, which made him jump a few inches out of his skin. "Ooh! Sorry." He was glad for his reaction though, because it caused a smile and a laugh to emit from it, but he also took his hands away.

"Sorry. I mean, we have all those board games, Karaoke and DDR inside, and on nice days, we have a tennis slash basketball court outside."

"No pool?"

"Oh yeah, and the pool." Kurt rolled his eyes again.

"Pool boy?"

"No…well…George." He laughed. "Not exactly the Legally Blonde pool boy type."

"If he was, he'd be all over you. Now, let's do this, cream some old people at their own games." Blaine took him through the maze of his home to the basement, where indeed there was a stage, lights, everything for a dance or singing performance, as well as several tables that stored away when they weren't needed. Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan sat at one table, talking quietly over wine. Blaine stopped in his tracks when he saw him. "Mom?"

"Oh! Blaine!" She stood up from her seat and tripped over her floor length satin gown. "Oh!"

"Mom, you're a bit tipsy," Blaine said as he met his mother in the middle and kept her from falling.

"Oh no, honey, it's just this dress."

"Prada is funny like that." She threw her head back in laughter at Kurt's comment. "Blaine he's so funny! You really ought to have him over more often! Now are you going to sing for us or not?"

"If you will sit down, I'd gladly sing for you." He took his mom back to her seat and Kurt took a place next to her, across from the Senator's glare.

"You know Kurt, you inspired this little performance, as you may notice. I rather like it." He scrolled through the songs. "Youtube is wonderful." He picked up the microphone, and it only took about a measure before Kurt realized what was coming. Youtube indeed.

"Here we go!"

_Stop! In the name of love!_

_Before you break my heart._

_Stop! In the name of love!_

_Before you break my heart._

Kurt felt like squealing. It was this song that started it all. This song and his want to be make it the best performance ever, that caused the straight boys to drive him out to "spy" on Blaine, the turning point in his life. Blaine even used the exact choreography as they had. Mrs. Buchanan swayed back and forth to the music, breaking her usual elegant appearance. Her husband was unchanged, as Kurt expected. If he had changed, he was appalled, listening to his son sing a female song. Blaine came off the stage and stood behind his father.

_I wear tight clothing, high heeled shoes  
It doesn't mean that I'm a prostitute, no no  
I like rap music, wear hip hop clothes  
That doesn't mean that I'm out sellin' dope no no no_

_Before you can read me you gotta  
Learn how to see me!_

Senator Buchanan looked like he was _gonna_ _choke a *bleep!* _Kurt started to fear for his love's life as the glare continued, but Blaine's ability to move people with his voice kept him calm, and sure that Blaine knew how far he could go before he stepped over the fine line that was his father's patience. However, Kurt began to think that the line was getting finer as it was disintegrated by alcohol.

_Stop! In the name of love  
Before you break my heart  
Stop! In the name of love  
Before you break my heart  
_

_Think it over Free your mind and the rest will follow  
Be color blind, don't be so shallow  
Think it over Free your mind and the rest will follow  
Be color blind, don't be so shallow_

Kurt smiled at Blaine and danced along in his seat until the boy pulled him out of his seat and let him up onto the stage. Kurt recalled the muscle memory of the song, and sang his part. It was different, with his voice being more prominent than it had been in his glee club. He no longer cared about the gaze from Mr. Buchanan, or the tipsy waving from his wife. All he cared about was the boy in front of him, staring deep into his soul, swaying to the music. The boy that had been hurting less than a half hour before was smiling and singing _with him._ He was so absorbed in his moment, singing to the love of his life, that he didn't even notice Mr. Buchanan get up from the table and unplug the machine until the music came to an abrupt stop.

"Stop, stop this!" he grumbled. "If you're going to sing a song, sing something less repetitive, something that requires practice to sing!"

"Do you have any requests, father?" Blaine asked him as he put the microphone back in its holster.

"Nothing that you would have prepared." He returned to his seat. "Isn't it past your bedtime, boy?" Kurt instinctively looked at his watch.

"Oh my goodness! I told my dad I would be back by eleven! There's no way I'll get home in time. I'm sorry Blaine, but I need to go…"

"I'll show you out." Kurt was afraid though, that when he left Blaine would fall into the same state that he was in when he was talking to him in the bedroom. He would drive home, and the whole way, be thinking of what was happening inside Blaine's head back in Westerville. He seemed so collected whenever he was anywhere else, but something about the house kept him on edge. He would savor the last moments he had, believing that Blaine was at peace. When they got to the door, Blaine kept Kurt for a moment while George retrieved the trench coat from the closet.

"I'm sorry tonight has been less than desirable. I just couldn't hide you from my parents anymore. For some reason I thought that if my dad saw me happy, that he would be a bit more accepting. My logic is flawed, yet again." Kurt felt the closeness of Blaine's hands to his, but they never touched. "I must return to Dalton unfulfilled."

"Well, things seem better for you there anyways, even if you don't have a butler at your disposal. You just seem more…at ease."

"I have my reasons." He turned around to both sides, and when he saw the coast was clear, he wrapped his arms around Kurt in a possessive, yet comforting embrace. "Call me when you get home, so I know you're alright, alright?" he asked with a smile.

"Oh certainly. I don't want you up all night worrying over little ol' me." Kurt heard footsteps, and Blaine released the embrace, only to turn and see George smiling at them.

"Yes, Master Kurt, please be careful. I heard that we have a clipper coming in, some freezing rain maybe." He wouldn't just give Kurt his coat, but he stood behind him and helped him into it.

"Thank you, Jeeves." George laughed and patted Kurt on the back.

"You be careful, my boy." He opened the door, and in addition to all the other surprises he had experienced over the evening, Kurt was shocked to see Blaine in his light dress coat, come out to the car with him. The walkway was slippery, so both of them took baby steps to keep their balance and safety down the path, arms linked for security.

"I l-love Ohio weather," Kurt shivered. He arrived at his car and found it covered with snow. "Oh wonderful…"

"Let me help." Kurt got inside after he fumbled with the nearly frozen lock and nearly had a heart attack when the car didn't start as easily as usual. Blaine snatched the scraper from under the seat between Kurt's legs, and before he had time to object, started to brush and scrape away. The driver rolled his eyes, but he knew that there was nothing he could do about it. "Just want you to be safe." When he was done scraping every window, front back, sides and the mirrors, he gave the scraper back to Kurt. "Remember, call me."

"I will. Good night."

"Good night Kurt" Blaine shut the door and carefully backed away, but he didn't go outside. Kurt turned around in the drive, and carefully pulled out. Blaine still hadn't gone back inside when he vanished from Kurt's vision. The roads weren't wonderful for a gated community, but he needed to get home. He called his dad, but his motivation to get home, was to make that late night phone call, a call that none of his friends at McKinley would ever want to answer.


	3. All I Care About

Kurt hadn't seen Blaine in person for over a month. They texted, called each other, and even had a webcam chat, but there were no face to face meetings. Blaine's mood seemed to lift when his father left for Washington D.C. toward the end of winter break. His mom was in Dayton for the weekend with some friends, so for the last few days of holiday he was alone with George. "It's like I'm being babysat, but it's always been this way."

He decided that if Thomas Buchanan was so famous, he would have some information on him on the World Wide Web.

Google: Thomas Buchanan

The first link was "Thomas Buchanan For Senate," his official website and then Wikipedia. What kind of high school doesn't go immediately to Wikipedia? Kurt was immediately greeted by a picture of Blaine's dad, but he almost didn't look like the same man due to the conservative politician smile he wore as he sat in front of the American flag. That smile that he inevitably wore on his TV ads as he promised a better life in Ohio and declared that he was the best choice to have a major say in what happened in our country. As his eyes scanned the pages, he saw that Blaine was distantly related to the Kennedys (but everyone is related to the Kennedys), and that he had been elected into the House in 1998. Two terms after that, he was elected to the Senate. He was reelected in 2008. _This guy must be good, if he was elected as a Republican with a Democratic president. But I know differently. _He graduated from Yale Law School in 1981 and received his masters in political science from Harvard in 1985. _Just like every other politician. What makes him so special?_

He clicked the link to "Family" which shot him down to a section that mostly talked about his wealthy ancestors, how his family went back to being partners with the Rockefellers and how Pamela's side was the one that supposedly held the Kennedy bloodline. He married Pamela in 1989 when she was 24 and he was 29. Kurt kept skimming the page, but there was no mention of any children. Then again, Blaine probably had some rights because he was a minor, but this was Wikipedia. However, that meant that Blaine could simply edit anything out containing information he didn't like.

He heard the door open downstairs. Burt was home from work, and Kurt knew that he was much more versed in politics than he was. Wait for him take a shower and get dressed, the usual routine. It only took about fifteen minutes, if he was especially dirty from work. When he heard his father's door open and his usual stretching groan, Kurt exited his bedroom. "Hey dad. How was work?"

"Busy. People need to be better winter drivers. Some are really bad too. I swear I ever have your Honda dragged in, and I can't even tell what it is, I don't know what I'll do."

"Dad, it's okay. You taught me how to drive in the winter, so I was taught by the best."

"I'm scared for you driving to Dalton next week, but I know I can't babysit you all the time, as much as I might want to watch out for you." Kurt smiled as they walked down the stairs.

"I wouldn't do that to you, dad."

"Good." They sat down at the table as Carole cooked dinner. It smelled like steamed broccoli, dinner rolls, and chicken breast, following Burt's health diet. "I have a question, for both of you maybe. Do either of you know anything about Senator Buchanan?"

"He's a staunch conservative, I know that. Probably never worked a day in his life, unless it was in D.C." Carole said. "Why do you ask?" Kurt figured that they would be curious, but he wasn't sure if telling them why would be the best thing to do. He knew that both of them were a little less rightist, so he didn't want their opinion of Blaine to falter because he was the son of a man that thought that the Hummels weren't fit to lick the bottom of his well polished shoes.

"Government project. We had to choose either a senator or a house representative from Ohio, and I was drawn to Mr. Buchanan because he looks like Robert Redford." Carole let out an admiring "Ooh!" and Burt rolled his eyes.

"So what do you know so far, apart from what we've told you?" Kurt relayed the information that he'd pulled of Wikipedia to his parents, even if he wanted to add 'and he's a total jerk, like a high school bully that never grew up because he doesn't know what real life is.'

Just before school started back up again, Blaine held a party for the Warblers at his home, apparently a usual occasion when his father was gone. They gathered in the basement around several of the round card tables dressed in clean cut sweaters and jeans, looking handsome even in what they considered casual wear. George had cheese and crackers, shrimp cocktails, warm bits of meat, vegetables, everything that one would expect that a black tie event hosted by Bruce Wayne's son, minus alcohol, because even George wouldn't allow that. There was plenty of conversation, but Kurt only spoke when he was spoken to, which he hadn't expected to be too often, until Wes sat down at his table.

"How are you enjoying your first Warbler party?" he asked, his white smile shining in through the dark against his chocolate skin. "I mean, I know we talk about being a machine and all, but we do have souls, I swear we do."

"It's fine, and yes, I've noticed."

"I mean, I guess we're kind of like werewolves; we change after dark."

"Except it's during the day when I feel as if you're all going to rip me to shreds, because I'm not of your species." Wes rolled his eyes.

"We really don't meet it. I mean…" He leaned in close to Kurt and put his arm around his shoulder. "You ever hear of the Whiffenpoofs?"

"What self-respecting gleek hasn't heard of the oldest a capella show choir in the United States?" Kurt scoffed, as if it was an insult to his intelligence.

"Exactly. Well, while they're poofing it up at Yale, we're Warblering a little further from the East coast. We want to be just as prestigious-"

"Don't you mean 'pretentious'?" Kurt saw Wes's face and back off. "Sorry. I'm still not used to being a group where not everyone has the chance to be a voice. The first day I met you, you were great and accepting, and then I walked into the Warblers room as one of you, and it seemed like you were thinking 'he's trapped here now, no need to suck up anymore' and you shot me down like a bi- I mean…you know what I mean."

"That's probably because I was treated the same way when I was new," Wes tried to explain as he raised a glass to his lips.

"Well, just because I was pushed around and shoved into lockers at school doesn't mean I need to turn around and act the same way. You learn from the mistakes other people make, just as much as you learn from your own." Kurt kept his voice calm and collected, trying to fend off any impulsiveness that could come from defending himself. Wes didn't speak back. "I know that Dalton is all about tradition. Everyone has them, but if we do want to beat the New Directions at regionals, then we can just do what you're doing. You did see them, right? And they're only going to go bigger and better."

"Refill your drink for you, Master Kurt?" George asked before Wes could really respond. The man reached between them and filled his glass, and Kurt smiled.

"George, have your shown Kurt your little talent yet?"

"Wesley, I have many talents," he said with a wink as he refilled the upperclassman's drink as well.

"You know what I'm talking about. Come on, it's _tradition_." It was Wes's turn to wink and smirk.

"I suppose I can't deny you, Wesley." He set the bottle down in the middle of the table, and went to find Blaine, who was sitting with someone other than Kurt for the first time the whole evening. Kurt saw him speak quietly to him and Blaine smile. The older boy took the microphone on the empty stage.

"Well everyone, to truly make Kurt Hummel a Warbler, we need to treat him to one of our _after dark specialties_." His voice turned slightly seductive on the last three words, and as he smiled at Kurt from across the room, the Warblers erupted in cat calls, and cheers. "Come on up here Kurt." He waved the boy up, but Kurt stayed firmly planted in his seat, looking around bashfully until Blaine was forced off of the stage and over to his chair. "It's fine. They're making it seem a lot worse than it actually is." Blaine took Kurt's hands as easily as he would take the keys of a piano, and took him up on stage, where more cat calls and hollers followed after them.

"Blaine what's going on?" He guided Kurt to the middle of the tables, and had him sit down closer to the stage than he had been.

"Just watch, it's fun." Blaine's comforting smile calmed Kurt's taught nerves, until he left him for the stage. "Ready guys?" he asked from the microphone. Cheers ensued once more, and Blaine started, but soon everyone in the room was singing.

_We want Georgie  
Where is Georgie  
Give us Georgie  
We want Georgie  
G-E-ORG-E  
We're all his  
He's our kind of a guy  
And ooh what luck  
Cuz here he is!_

"Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting the silver tongued prince of the courtroom. THE ONE, THE ONLY George Hill!" Blaine announced. Kurt almost didn't understand. _Chicago_? Only when George came into the spot light on stage, dancing, spinning, but not showing his face, did Kurt realize how like Richard Gere he was. When he took the microphone Kurt about pinch himself, thinking that he was dreaming.

_I don't care about expensive things  
Cashmere coats, diamond rings  
Don't mean a thing  
All I care about is love  
That's what I'm here for_

_I don't care for wearing silk crevats  
Ruby Studs, Satin Spats  
Don't mean a thing  
All I care about is love_

The Warblers joined in at the appropriate times for the filler parts, sung by a group of women, but Kurt was barely paying attention to them. George's voice was such a surprise, that and his dancing. He didn't expect a butler to have such abilities, at least in real life. He had stage presence, and the shocking part was that…he was good!

_Give me two eyes of blue  
Softly saying "I need You"  
Let me see her standing there and  
Honest mister I'm a millionaire_

_I don't care for any fine attire  
Vanderbilt might admire  
No no not me  
All I care about is love_

George proceeded to exit the stage, and whistle the next part like an expert. He weaved through the tables, skipping to his beat at the fitting intervals. He spun as he went around the room, filling glasses or just dancing around. After two phrases, he made his way to the stage, where he took the microphone up again, and walked over toward Blaine.

_Show me long raven hair  
Flowing down bout to there_

He ruffled his hand through Blaine's curly raven locks. Both of them smiled. Kurt had never seen Blaine smile quite like that before.

_When I see her runnin' free  
Keep your money  
That's enough for me_

The Warblers began to sing the "aaaaahs" of the chorus, and Kurt couldn't help but join in. It was a woman's part after all, and no one else could sing it quite like him.

_I don't care for driving Packard cars  
Or smoking long buck cigars  
No no not me  
All I care about is doing the guy in  
Who's picking on you _(he pointed at Blaine and Kurt)_  
Twisting the wrist that's turning the screw_

All I care about is LOVE!

So he didn't end the show in true Billy Flynn style by ripping his underwear off in the middle of a mob of girls, but Kurt could get past that. The man was a talent! He was a natural Richard Gere, and he certainly looked like him too, with his wavy graying hair and kind face. Plus he looked great in a suit. All of the Warblers gave him a standing ovation as he bowed. Kurt clapped enthusiastically as the butler came off the stage and continued with his usual duties. Wes clapped Kurt on the back, a little too hard, so he coughed. "Congrats Kurt. You're officially a Warbler!"_  
_


	4. A House is Not a Home

As the party dwindled down around eleven, some of the Warblers who lived close started to leave. Most of them were gone by 11:30, but Blaine had guest rooms for the members who didn't like quite so close. Kurt would have been happy sleeping on the floor, like a normal slumber party, but when Blaine showed him the room he would be staying in, he just about fainted. It was decorated in with the same elegance as Blaine's room, but it was far simpler. It was a sleigh bed, but still a queen size, with drapes that kept the room warmer even when the fireplace at the far end of the room was lit (which it was). A small table and chairs was placed in the corner, as well as a leather chair in the opposite. The lights were coordinated just right, to create a certain ambiance that made Kurt create the sound of a relaxing coffee shop saxophone in his head.

"Is the room to your liking, Kurt?" Blaine asked as he followed Kurt in, and shut the door behind him.

"To my liking? Blaine, this is better than any room I will ever stay in. I would have been happy on a couch." He walked over to the bed, and pushed himself up onto it, and smiled at Blaine. "Tonight was wonderful. You seemed so much more at ease than at the dinner party." Blaine expressed that fact when he approached the bed and took Kurt's hands, but he kept his head bowed. "It's something with your dad. When he leaves, you're relieved. I mean, I understand it, but you have this paranoia that breaks my heart when he's around. On my way home, the only thing I was thinking about was calling you, so I knew that _you _were okay." Blaine bit his lip, but Kurt kept his eyes on him. He knew that the love of his life was hiding something from him, and he had every right to, except that not telling someone was leading to Blaine getting hurt in some way, whether it be mentally or physically.

Blaine eventually sighed and lay down on the bed, pulling Kurt with him so they lay facing each other, still holding hands. "Things are a little rough with my family, and not just with my dad being so conservative and having to put up with me, the one that loves show tunes and boys. My parents' marriage was, for the most part, arranged, because my dad could only chose from the debutantes, the very well to do debutantes with quite a bit of old money, and in a rush, because he was almost 30, he married my mom, because let's face it, she's beautiful."

"And rather nice, don't forget."

"Oh certainly. But anyways, right after they got married, my dad was still in high demand. He was a lawyer, and he would work late some nights. My mom apparently accused him of having an affair, which she later found was true, but she couldn't really worry about it, because I came along soon after. However, since then dad has been on edge with mom because he's always had some temper issues, and he accuses her of loving me more than him, and it makes me feel guilty. I mean, I know he's a dick, but I feel like it's partially my fault. They're always fighting, and half of the time it's over me and the things I do. Dad thinks that because I'm gay, I can't love my mom, because she's a girl."

"What? That's absurd! Why don't your parents get a divorce, if it's so difficult to get through a single day?"

"Because it would ruin both of their images. My family has a spotless reputation, and if it gets out that they divorce then our prestige will go down the toilet. Then again, it doesn't matter for me. After all, it's not like I'll be able to get a wife and have more little Buchanan babies. I'm not going to be a lawyer, or a politician, or a CEO of any Fortune 100 company. I just want to sing, perform and make people happy. I want to _be _happy." He took a deep breath in, and closed his eyes.

Kurt wanted so badly to just wrap his arms around him, kiss him and tell him that it's all okay, but he didn't know if that would be the absolute appropriate time. He would be putting his selfish desires before Blaine's pain. He looked so vulnerable, so weak on the bed with his eyes closed as if he was sleeping, but Kurt could practically hear the voices in Blaine's head. He was probably remembering arguments over him, his parents screaming, but he wouldn't cry. Blaine was strong enough, closed in enough, that he wouldn't cry. He wasn't as much of a girl as Kurt was.

"What can I do, to make you happy, Blaine? That's all I want in the world is to see that wonderful smile of yours. It tells me that everything is right with the world, because you are the world." Blaine opened his eyes, and noticed that Kurt's eyes were sparkling with tears. Instinctively, he wiped them away, but the touch only made the tears flow harder.

"Why are you crying? This isn't your burden to bear…"

"Because—" Kurt didn't have the guts to say it. No…not now.

"Kurt…you'll make me start crying if you don't tell me…don't make me cry Kurt." Even with his plea, Kurt could tell by the choke in his voice that he was trying to remain strong.

"Oh please Blaine, I don't want to cause you any more pain. I just…it doesn't seem right to say." His voice shuttered when Blaine wiped away the tears once more.

"I can handle it. Just me." He attempted to give Kurt a smile, but it still didn't compare to his others. Regardless, Kurt suddenly had the feeling that it would all be okay, that he needed to let the cat out of the bag already because otherwise it would suffocate and die.

"Blaine, your smile makes me know the world is right because _you _are the world to me. Ever since I stopped you on the stairs the first time, by some twist of fate_, _I have wanted to know you more, and when I began to know you, I began to care about you. You have done more for me than any of my friends, even the best ones, and I've only known you for a few months." He took a deep breath. "Basically, you've become the subject of my affections. I…I love you. I know that's what this feeling is, because it's never been quite the same as anything else I've ever felt. It's just this amazing, never ending, feeling that—" Blaine had pressed a finger to Kurt's lips, When the boy looked up, he was smiling at him.

"Kurt, oh my goodness, Kurt. You have so much courage, so much more than me. It's not just because you stood up to your bullies as long as it was safe, but I've wanted to tell you that for _so long_, but I never had the guts to tell you." Kurt's eyes grew wide and he found himself unable to breath breathe evenly. Someone loved…him? In a way he approved? He could barely think straight, and he felt his face warm up dangerously.

"R-Really? Oh my goodness, really? Am, am I dreaming? I mean this is a very comfortable bed…" Blaine chuckled, and moved his body closer to Kurt's.

"No, no you're not dreaming. If you were, I'd be quite upset, and I'd wake up wondering how you knew so much about my parents." Their faces were inches apart, and Kurt was sure that Blaine could feel the heat from his face. He hated that Blaine had the best skin, and never seemed to show a blush. Kurt saw Blaine's chin tilt up, and then felt a warm dampness on his forehead. Was that…was that a _kiss_? _I…I feel faint! _Blaine smiled at Kurt, but saw how frightened he looked, with his wide eyes of shock and his reddening face. He shimmied away from Kurt on the bed, and eventually stood up. Kurt sat up violently and gave himself a head rush.

"Where are you going? You can't just say something like that and walk away! Don't you know how this works?" Kurt rolled himself off the bed and stood in front of Blaine, hating sometimes that he was taller than the dark haired boy, because he seemed to wear the skirt in the relationship. He dipped his head in slightly, to change that fact. "I mean, it's just so much for me to handle. I've never been love before…I've never had a kiss that…one that counted, and it was really overwhelming to get even a peck from someone I love." He smiled at Blaine, that subtle little smiled, before he leaned in and gave the boy a real kiss, with all the feeling he'd wanted to express to Blaine, but couldn't find a song that truly portray what he wished to say so badly. His arms formed a protective embrace around him, and Blaine followed his example, until there was no space between them, and they became a single entity. Kurt felt his foot _pop _up a few inches off the ground, like he was inside the Princess Diaries. The only sound in the room was the crackling fire, popping with heat. When they finally broke apart, wanting to see the other's face, both of them were smiling like they'd never seen the other smile before.


	5. Stronger

The boys had returned to Dalton, optimistic until they realized that their set list wasn't completely finished. They had a hard time finding a song sexy enough until they stumbled upon Animal and Raise Your Glass. After much drilling, they had a layout, a show that would be a crowd pleaser and a crowd shocker. There were about two weeks until Regionals, and the entire group felt confident, but perfect practice makes perfect! They were all in the practice room, that was, all but one. Kurt hadn't heard from Blaine all day.

"I'll go look for him," he said with a dramatic raise of his hand. Wes waved him out and Kurt immediately went to Blaine's room. The halls were quiet and dark, with most students in their rooms or elsewhere. On the way to the dorm, Kurt glanced at the parking lot for Blaine's blue Ford Fusion, parked in his usual spot, next to Kurt's car. Check. He proceeded through the dorms, up the grand staircase, and as he approached the dorm, he could hear music, laughter, video game frustration and even a boy reading lines out loud from Hamlet, but none of the sound was coming from Blaine's room as Kurt approached. He listened at the door, and heard nothing, but proceeded to knock. "Blaine? It's Kurt, are you there?" He heard the bed creak through the wall. Asleep? "Blaine? Are you okay?" He waited a few more moments. "If you want to talk, we can talk somewhere else. The library looked empty." There were a few more moments of silence between the two parties. He was probably asleep. "Well…okay if you wake up come down to Warbler practice. I'll check on you afterward." He sighed in defeat and began his walk back to the Warbler room with his hands in his pockets. Just as he was about to go down the staircase, he heard his name, and turned.

Blaine stood just outside his room, with his hair severely disheveled, like he had slept with gel in it. He wasn't even wearing his normal uniform, but his Dalton gym shirt and sweat pants. His face was pale, and Kurt could see dark circles under his red eyes behind his glasses even if he was about 50 feet away. "Oh my goodness what happened to you?" Kurt asked as he turned and power walked back to him. Blaine looked back into his room, as if contemplating retreat, but decided that he was too far in to turn back now. "Why don't you come inside?" he asked lowly.

"Are you sick?" Kurt asked.

"No…no, just come in." Kurt gave him a quizzical look, but then proceeded inside the boy's room. His sheets were thrown about the bed, and quiet piano music played on his nightstand. There were several wadded up tissues in his waste basket, and a family photo out on his desk, of a happier time in the Buchanan family. Blaine had to be only 5, and then Kurt remembered that his father had run for office in 1998. It was probably his campaign photo. He turned back to Blaine, who had taken a seat on his bed.

"My parents are getting a divorce."

"A divorce?" Kurt interjected. Blaine looked up at him with sad eyes, red, Kurt deduced, from crying. But he thought that getting away from his father would be a good thing… "But why?" Blaine looked toward the window, even if it was shut. Kurt took a seat in Blaine's desk chair, which haphazardly held his blazer and slacks. Blaine took a deep breath in and let it out heavily.

"Because my mom is pregnant."

Kurt was silent. He couldn't even interject anything at that detail. _Pregnant? What kind of jerk leaves his wife when she's pregnant? _Thomas Buchanan, obviously. "Why would your dad do that? I mean, he seems a little too concerned with his image to leave his pregnant wife…"

"Because that baby isn't his!" Blaine shouted. Kurt's eyes widened, not only at the detail but at the fact that Blaine was so stressed that he had shouted for the first time in their history. He covered his eyes, and when Kurt heard him sniffle, he knew that he had started to cry, or he was about to. Kurt got up from the chair and sat next to Blaine on the bed. He rubbed his back, and Blaine rested his shoulder on Kurt's. They didn't exchange any words and eventually they lay back on the bed. Kurt wrapped the blanket around them, but kept his arms around the shorter boy.

Kurt realized only then that Blaine was breaking, just as he himself had been just months before. _Breaking…_ The strong knight in shining armor had fallen off his horse and his chain mail was tainted. His Achilles Heel had been stricken. Now Kurt was the protector…a civilian that had been handed a musket that he had no idea how to use. Usually he was the one fishing for comfort and advice, and now that he was supposed to give it, he realized that he hadn't been paying attention during this mini therapy sessions, and he didn't think that he could comfort Blaine with the same methods anyway.

He kissed Blaine on the forehead once his crying had simmered down the sniffles.

"Are you afraid?" Kurt whispered to him. Blaine took a few deep breaths and wiped his eyes before he answered. Kurt could feel moisture on his blazer, from tears or drool or other bodily fluids, but he didn't mind it. For all he cared, it was Blaine's sadness leaking out of his body.

"I'm…yes, I'm afraid. My dad has the power of Washington on his side, and he's a great lawyer."

"Wait, lawyer? He's fighting for custody of you?" He felt his voice rise in volume, but then brought it down. Blaine sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around Kurt.

"It's a bit more…complicated than that. It was my dad that initiated the divorce, so my mom is suing him for all he has."

"She can do that without probable cause?"

"She has a lawsuit. George is representing her. He has a law degree you know…he just worked for my family to pay off his debt and never got into a firm or anything. I'm just…I'm afraid that he won't be enough. And to make it even worse, the court date is the day of Regionals…" Kurt took a sharp breath in. Without Blaine, going to Regionals would be suicide. The New Directions would laugh in their faces, because no one's voice could really sing Bills Bills Bills or Raise Your Glass quite like Blaine, so even if they could replace him, that would cause too many holes and too much stress two weeks before the competition.

"No…no Regionals aren't important anymore, Blaine." The boy closed his eyes and looked away from Kurt. "This is your future we're talking about here."

"Either way, I'm going to lose you…"

"Wait…what?" Kurt spat out, flabbergasted. Lose Blaine? He hadn't even begun to think of that possibility. He'd gotten so used to him just being there, that he hadn't thought of him ever leaving. He hadn't even thought so far as them going to different schools for college. _I've been taking him for granted…_

"Yeah…if my dad wins for some reason, I move to DC. If my mom wins, she'll probably go home to her parents in New York until college. So unless there is a miracle…I'm leaving Dalton before the year is up, most likely…" Kurt's jaw dropped, and Blaine couldn't look up at him. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I wish there was another way."

"Blaine…Blaine no, this isn't about me, stop making it about anything but yourself. Something is up in your family and I haven't figured it out yet, but I'm figuring that your dad has something to do with it, and I won't let him win. All the Warblers will testify for you if you need us, and I'll be right there the whole time. We will do whatever it takes to make the verdict come in your favor, the best thing for you, even if it may not be the best for the rest of us."

Blaine sat up, and Kurt followed slowly. The boy's hair was still messy, and his eyes red behind his glasses. He let out an exasperated breath, but then managed a post-cry smile. Kurt mirrored his expression. "You're stronger than you think, Blaine. I know that we can get through this." He took his hand, which Blaine grasped as if it was his lifeline. "Together."


	6. Trial and Error

"Good morning, Blaine."

Blaine grumbled and pulled the cover further over his head, not wanting to face reality just yet. Everything was just fine under layers of Egyptian cotton. George entered with a quiet chuckle and he went to the windows and drew back the draperies to let in the gray from outside. It was raining heavily and some rumbles could even be heard as the first spring storm came to a close. "It's not going to go away. Come on, time to get dapper. Gotta look good for the jury." He pulled the comforter and sheets off of Blaine, who grumbled, but pushed himself up, wiped the sleep from his eyes and put on his glasses. George went through Blaine's walk in closet to find a suit among the Dalton blazers, sweaters, slacks, vests, shirts and ties.

"You sure you know what you're doing, George?" Another chuckle from inside the closet.

"You sound like you don't trust me."

"Well, you haven't had any court room experience in about two decades. I think I have good reason to doubt. If you were anyone else, I wouldn't even show up to court because I would have absolutely no hope." He disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready to shower.

"Courage, Blaine," George interjected just as Blaine splashed water on his face. He put his hands on the sides of the sink and let the water drip down with gravity.

When he got out of the shower, George had finished pressing all of his clothes for the day. He had a towel wrapped around his waist as he went over to the bed to air dry. Every morning when he was home, he and George would talk throughout the day, but that day, no words passed Blaine's lips. His thoughts were raging too loudly for him to form sentences. All he could hear was the judge pounding his gavel and declaring "innocence" to his father, and having him ripped away from his mother to be plunged into the DC life that he desperately wanted to escape from. He wasn't a politician, and conservatives like his father tended to rip people like him apart because of how they were born. He wouldn't be able to survive in DC, or New York for that matter, even with all the culture. Sure he could start a career, potentially, and get into Juilliard at a discount because he would be in-state, but those things weren't important.

What was important was that no matter who won the case, he would be taken away from Kurt, and that would leave to a life of misery. He would leave Kurt without him knowing how he truly felt about him. Sure they had kissed, but Kurt still had no idea how much he really needed him. He was his light at the end of the tunnel, his reason to get up in the morning, his reason to get through ever heart wrenching day. And he was about to lose the ability to see the light.

George helped Blaine get proper for the court, and as he slipped on his jacket and tied his tie, Blaine gave himself a good once over in the mirror. He was dressed in a blue sweater vest, white shirt, blue striped tie, his Dalton gray slacks and his black shoes. He straightened his tie and let out a heavy sigh. "This isn't even real…" he said to himself.

"I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to make this choice."

"It isn't even a choice…it's an easy answer. But what if the court doesn't see it that way?" George put his hands on Blaine's shoulders as he stood behind him.

"Just because your father works for the government doesn't mean that they will lean toward him. Justice will be served, and soon your suffering will disappear." Blaine took a deep breath in and out.

"It'll never disappear. It just kind of…gets locked in the closet somewhere."

Kurt had never been to a courthouse before, since he'd never gotten far enough with his Karofsky ordeal. It wasn't just any courthouse though. Because Mr. Buchanan worked for the government, they were in the Ohio Supreme Court, which was a class-A place in Kurt's opinion, with its columns and its likeness to the US Supreme Court. Blaine had kept him filled in on the case, how there would only be the chief justice present, as well as a jury, to lessen the possibility of government workers being biased toward one of their own, by George's request.

He didn't realize how hard it would be to find a place to park. The fact that a Senator was getting sued by his wife, and was representing himself, led to the biggest scandal Ohio had seen in years. The stairs were crowded with paparazzi, and they were still present as he walked up the steps around them. They were gathered around Mr. Buchanan, who made many hand motions, denying hand motions from what Kurt could see. He couldn't spot Mrs. Buchanan or George anywhere, so he proceeded inside. He felt as overwhelmed as the day he entered the Buchanan's gated community for the first time. The atrium was gorgeous, and produced an amber glow, and Kurt couldn't help but do a little turn to take it all in. Classical portraits depicting justice were hung throughout the room, as well as previous justices. The ceiling was glass, and even when the sun wasn't out, the room was filled with light. It was heavenly in the building that made someone's life hell. But his heaven was about to sweep him off his feet.

"Kurt…"

The boy was snapped out of his reverie, just as he had when he realized that he had missed his intended street, and needed to turn around. When he spun around this time though, he saw Blaine, looking just as dapper as always, but there was still something different about his aura. He certainly didn't possess the confidence he carried when he was about to belt out another solo to a theater full of people. He looked exhausted behind his glasses, and Kurt could feel the sleepiness in the hug he gave him. This young man wasn't Blaine Buchanan, leader of the Warblers. This was Blaine Buchanan, a kid stuck in the middle of a nasty divorce.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asked him as they held their embrace, with Kurt doing most of the work. Blaine felt weak in his arms.

"Better, now that I know you're here. I hate these journalists…they're making me nervous." He glanced over his shoulder once they released each other. "George says I just shouldn't say anything, but that doesn't mean that they won't try to attack me. I'm just glad my dad showed up so they have fresh bait that isn't me." The boys turned and started to walk through the maze of hallways to the court room. "George says I might not even talk today. There are so many charges to go through, but the one dealing with me isn't until later, so it depends on how much George and my dad duke it out. If they aren't done by four o'clock, then we'll be back here tomorrow." Kurt noticed that Blaine's pace was rushed, despite his lethargic appearance. He kept looking over his shoulder nervously.

"Blaine, you're making _me _nervous. It's fine. No one is coming." He took Blaine's hand to jerk him to a stop, but he tumbled right back into Kurt's embrace. "Slow down. I mean, the trial isn't going to start any sooner." Blaine nodded, but then didn't move at all. Kurt held his face in his hands, and planted a kiss on Blaine's forehead. "You are so strong," he whispered in the near silence. "I'll be right there the whole time. Did George ask the judge to let me sit with you?"

"Behind me. Protocol, you know?" Kurt nodded and glanced at the ground, and they stood in a comfortable silence, until it was broken by a mob of voices.

"Kurt…they're coming, we need to go." Blaine took Kurt's hand, and ran with it. It wasn't a frolic like they had enjoyed on their first meeting. It was a near sprint, an escape attempt as the media tried to catch a photo of the Senator's son. Kurt saw them turning into the hallway just as they started running. Their attempt to evade them only aroused them. Some began to run, while the rest stayed with Mr. Buchanan. Just one shot! The boys skidded down a second hallway. Up the stairs. Down to the left. Through the double doors.

"Blaine!" The boys skidded to a stop to hear Mrs. Buchanan scold him. "What's this all about?"

"Calm down, Pamela. I'm sure it's the media."

"Well they never wanted to talk to _me._ I'm the one going through with the divorce!" Kurt scratched his head. _Why would you want to be attacked by fanatics with cameras?_

"Again, Pamela, you don't want to risk saying something that could be used against us. The media can take even the most innocent of statements and twist it for the public. Just let me do the talking." Kurt noticed George hold Mrs. Buchanan's elbows, and then slide down her arms to her hands. _Pamela? What happened to "madam"? _He shook his head and sat down in the seat reserved for him just as the paparazzi and news reporters from several major networks came into the courtroom, and claimed their spots for reporting. Blaine covered his face and waved away any of the reporters. The butler left Mrs. Buchanan long enough to try to get them away from Blaine, pushing himself between the microphones and the boy.

"Now now, that's quite enough," he said in a calm voice that Kurt heard him use around the Buchanan house, as if the reporters were guests. They backed off, and George fixed his suit and tie after he straightened his posture. "Animals…"

"Here we go again, I feel the chemicals kicking in."

"I want to run and hide."

The court room filled up with spectators, including most of the Warblers. After two weeks of deliberation, they decided to withdraw their Regionals spot, forfeit any chance at Nationals, and go sit through a trial. Without Blaine and Kurt, they would be off balance anyways, and while they all knew how to perform, they all knew that Blaine and Kurt were the show sellers. The trial was an event, and anyone who was anyone was there, except for the people that had to run the country. Governor Kasich was there, and luckily he attracted a bit more attention than the family for a while, so Blaine got some breathing room.

"All rise. The Honorable Chief Justice Maureen O'Connor, presiding." A tall woman, about fifty with a short dark bob entered the room, dressed in her courtly robe. She had more presence than Rachel Berry with her posture, stoic expression and title. It was almost intimidating, like Judge Judy.

"You may be seated," she said as she herself sat. After giving general introductions, she turned to George. "Mr. Anderson, your opening statement?"

"Yes, your Honor." Kurt leaned forward, and Blaine leaned back.

"Anderson? I thought it was Hill."

"Anderson doesn't fit very well into the song." Kurt nodded, and sat back before the judge could give him a bad look. He turned his attention back George, who approached the justice and jury.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury. I've been working in the Buchanan household since the beginning of their marriage, and I don't remember a time when their union was anything near happy. Soon after their wedding, the defendant, Thomas Buchanan, became notorious for being unfaithful. He has been negligent to his son and his wife." Kurt's mind drifted and he looked around to the jury. Middle class, normal looking, half men, half women. Coincidence, surely. He looked back at Justice O'Connor. Republican, just like Mr. Buchanan. She could have been a very pretty woman if she just fixed her hair, put on some foundation and got out of the awful robe she wore. She watched George like a hawk, as if waiting for some mistake. Kurt's eyes drifted to Blaine, who watched the butler with a different intensity. He seemed to be pressing him to move on, so they could get out of the courthouse and just get on with the lives that they would be sentenced to live. A life away from Kurt.

"Thank you Mr. Anderson." Kurt looked up and the jury was shaking their heads and looking at each other. Several of the spectators were also. Blaine's head had fallen, and Kurt had no idea why.

"What happened? Sorry, I took a little trip to Hummelville."

"Nothing, don't worry about it now." Blaine's voice was lower than Kurt had ever heard it, as if it took effort to raise the pitch. He kept his hands folded in his lap as George returned to his seat, laid his hands in his lap, and turned his attention to Mr. Buchanan, to listen to his opening statement.

"Ladies and gentlemen. You may have voted for me, or you may not have. Even if you don't believe with my political views, I hope that you will set aside those opinions and come live with me on a more personal level. My wife Pamela isn't a white-as-snow, innocent victim. She accuses me of infidelity, and then turns and makes me feel the pain she created for herself. Mr. Anderson says I'm negligent to my son, but ladies and gentlemen, how can I be negligent to my son, if I don't have one? Why should I need to take care of a boy that isn't mine?"


	7. Break

The court erupted in loud murmurs, gasps and Kurt couldn't help but contribute to the noise. It should have been completely obvious, since he looked nothing like Mr. Buchanan, but he just didn't think that a family like Blaine's could have such skeletons in the closet. Flashes become blinding as the news reporters took snapshots of Senator Buchanan's snarky expression, Mrs. Buchanan's shame and Blaine's look that said that he just wanted to hide under a rock. He had closed his eyes, and his head was supported by his hands, laced together in a fist that connected with his forehead. Kurt had to admit, it would have been a lovely picture if the circumstances had been different. Any reporter that got a decent shot would probably make the front page of the political section. Headline: _When Politics Come Home-The Tragedy of Ohio Royalty. _

"Order! Order!" Judge O'Connor commanded with her gavel. Kurt couldn't help but close his eyes and imagine that they weren't in a courtroom, that it was Wes banging the wooden hammer to call an Emergency Meeting of the Warblers Council to order. The jury was gone, and the only way issues were decided was through a short discussion followed by a majority vote by hand raising. There were no cameras, no money, no lives on the line, just petty little complaints like what color uniform to wear or what song to perform. Blaine had an upper hand in that courtroom, but here, he was just as helpless as anyone else.

The jury finally settled down and Senator Buchanan had time to drive Blaine and the prosecution further into the ground with his opening statement. When he was finished, he connected eyes with George. It was like a playground showdown, when the bully connects with his victim and silently says _this isn't over._ Kurt knew that the prosecution needed to have one hell of a case. He only hoped that they would bring it.

* * *

There was break a few hours into the trial, and Blaine couldn't have felt more relieved. He ran down the hall and to the bathroom before any of the media could find him and ask him any questions. The men's room in the courthouse was kept immaculately, so he could see his expression perfectly in the mirror as he ran past it, into the stall and fell to his knees while he gagged. He felt all the blood rush to his head as he tried desperately to expel the embarrassment and shame from inside him, but to no avail. He coughed, which shook his glasses off his face and into the bowl. _Dammit. _He plucked them out and retreated out of the stall with his eyes squinted and his hands out in front of him to keep him from falling over. He heard the door open, and then a pair of hands rested on his shoulders. "George?"

"Close," Kurt said as he guided him over to the sink. Blaine felt for the water faucets and missed a few times before he could finally grip it. "No, Blaine, you'll burn your hand off." Kurt's hand rested on top of Blaine's and set it on the cold water faucet, which Blaine turned. "You really are blind, aren't you? What happened to your glasses?"

"Not important." He rinsed them under the water, and then dried them on his tie. When he opened his eyes, everything was blurry for the moment he didn't have them on, but then Kurt came into complete focus, smiling at him.

"Better? Well…at least your eyes are. You look awful. I mean, you don't look well." Blaine turned toward the mirror and saw the two of them, inches away from each other, looking in the same direction at the same person, him. He was shades paler than he had been when he entered the courtroom that morning. His eyes were red around the edges from the times he'd hidden his face to hold back tears, though it probably would have helped the jury in their decisions. He ran his fingers through his hair so often that it had fallen out of place. He sighed and looked down at their feet. "I feel awful. He's throwing the punches all at once, and I hate that my life had to be exposed this way, in front of everyone, by people other than me." He turned his face up to Kurt. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen, but I just couldn't bring myself to say it first." He looked around, and then dragged Kurt into the larger stall and locked the door. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "You haven't even seen it all. Not the worst of it." Kurt stood still just inches from Blaine.

"Do you know who your real father is?"

"I have a guess, but I'm not allowed to know until I'm 18. I can wager though, that my 'dad' will let it slip by the end of the trial though. That's his whole case, pretty much. He's vicious…" Kurt gave Blaine a once over and saw his posture slip into a slouch.

"This may sound a tad juvenile, but I think you need to sing something."

"Kurt, this isn't the time-"

"I don't care if you burst into a show tune in the middle of the courtroom. You are turning into a shell of your former self and the first day of the trial isn't even over yet! I won't lose you because of a man who is only out for his own gains. Just hum yourself a little tune if you have to. Please…you need to refuel and you live off music." Blaine wouldn't look up at him, so Kurt took his hand and gently took Blaine's chin to look up at him. The darker haired boy was about a foot shorter than Kurt because of his slouch. "Please, Blaine? You're killing me here. I just don't understand why you wouldn't want to look more put together. If you don't…you might not get even your mom's custody, but you might be put away to some hospital for not-put-together boys!"

"Kurt! Stop it! You're not making this better! This isn't time for jokes…"

"It isn't? Well it would be nice to see some form of life on your face! Some sign that says 'it's going to be okay'! Is that too much to ask, Blaine? Too much?"

"You don't understand!"

"Then help me understand, Blaine! I may not know what it's like to be in the middle of a divorce, or to be the child of an affair, but I do know what it's like to lose someone I love desperately! Do NOT make me go through that again, Blaine Anderson, do NOT!" Kurt grabbed the door and threw it open in anger, only to walk right into a body. "Oh, sorry sir."

"Don't be!" Kurt's eyes widened. He looked up and found himself staring into the smirk of Senator Buchanan.

* * *

**So I know that this is almost a sin to publish with it being so short, but I will definitely make up for it in later chapters! I was just so tired and it was a nice place to stop! I still love reviews to know if I'm doing things well or not! Thanks for reading! =]**


	8. Misery

Kurt covered his mouth in absolute shock. He hoped that his widened eyes wouldn't fall out of his head. He'd forgotten just how intimidating the man was up close. He stood a few inches taller than Kurt, and he seemed to have grown bigger since they had dinner together. His eyes drilled down into Kurt's being, screaming _I will destroy everything you love._ But that wasn't even what scared him the most. It was the fact that somehow he had managed to hurt Blaine in a way that made him terrified to even be in the same room as him. He had the ability to use words in a way that frightened Kurt so much he wished he could go deaf. His gaze had frozen Kurt to that spot, speechless. Thomas Buchanan sucked the words right out of his mouth, took his voice, just like he had Blaine's.

"I hope you're enjoying the trial, Mr. Hummel. I think it's a great show," he said as he turned to wash his hands.

"Y-You-You're sick."

"You obviously haven't been around many lawyers."

"Well…Well I don't go around getting myself sued every other week! What happened? A few weeks ago you wouldn't even spit in my direction, let alone talk to me!" The man turned off the water and slowly faced Kurt. They locked eyes for a moment, until he shook his wet fingers in the boy's face.

There was only a split second that Kurt had his eyes closed. Within that second, he felt himself be pushed to the side up against a hand dryer, followed by the sound another 'oof!' from within the room, and then another. He wiped his eyes and threw them open to see a slightly blurry image of Mr. Buchanan holding himself against the countertops, panting. Kurt followed Mr. Buchanan's eyes to see Blaine on the ground, in a urinal with his hand on his head. His world cracked, and yet it all fell into place.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Kurt yelled, echoing within the granite, metal and tile room. Mr. Buchanan shook his hands passively and turned away. He left the room without a word. Kurt glanced at Blaine, who was getting himself up out of the urinal, and then darted out of the room. "Excuse me! I'm talking to you!" He opened the door and found Mr. Buchanan walking back toward the court room. "So that's what you do, huh? Is that why Blaine is so scared of you? I bet that happens a lot at home! That's why he has to look over his shoulder to see if you're there. You're just some sick two faced politician! Is that how you deal with your anger? You pissed that you couldn't even get your own wife pregnant and have your own son now?" Mr. Buchanan stopped walking, but he didn't turn around. "Ooh, hit a nerve, did I? See, I can use words too! You messed with the wrong diva today!" Kurt put his fists to his chest and then let them explode away from him. He retreated back into the bathroom before Mr. Buchanan could turn around. He opened the door and nearly ran right into Blaine. "Oh gosh, sorry."

"Those…those were some _words, _Kurt. Holy…wow…that was amazing."

"You could hear that?"

"I'm pretty sure the whole courthouse could hear that. You were…wow." They stood in silence, looking anywhere but each other's faces.

"He…shoved you…" Blaine nodded, hands still in his pockets.

"He threw water in your face."

"That's not nearly as serious." Kurt finally looked up, but all he could see was Blaine's profile looking down toward their shoes. "Why did you shove him?"

"He threw water in your face. He was being…an ass."

"Well so was I. I was kind of asking for it."

"But you didn't deserve it."

"Neither did you." Kurt sighed, and Blaine finally turned his head up toward him. "Worse has happened to you, hasn't it?" Blaine opened his mouth, but was interrupted when the bathroom door opened. It hit Kurt in the back and caused him to fall into Blaine's embrace, with their faces inches apart. "Oh my god!" Kurt cried out in shock.

"Oh, sorry. We need you back in the courtroom, boys. Blaine, are you ready?" George asked, even though neither of the boys could see him from behind the door. Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes, searching for the answer to George's question. _Are you ready?_

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be out." The door closed behind them. Kurt could have backed away, but he stayed in the boy's arms. "You'll be okay. I've got your back." Blaine chuckled to himself, and Kurt cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"Oh yeah."

* * *

Once the room had settled down and Jude O'Connor had taken her seat, the trial continued as if it had never ended. Blaine tried to fix his hair quickly with some of George's emergency gel, but now Pamela's hair seemed a bit out of place from her former immaculate curls. Kurt turned back to see all the Warblers, whispering something to each other. He felt like he was outside a clique, trying to listen in, but he couldn't read the lips behind the hands. "This court is now in session." Kurt turned toward the front once more. "Prosecution, your first witness?"

"Yes your Honor. I would like to call Pamela Buchanan to the stand." George stood up first, and then crossed the table to Mrs. Buchanan. He held out his hand like a good butler, and she did some last minute primping before she took it. She fixed her high-waisted pencil skirt (that showed a slight bump that hadn't been present during the dinner party) and satin blouse as George escorted her to the stand in her 4 inch heels. The shoes made the two stand the same height. She clutched George by the arm on the walk up and Kurt raised a brow at the closeness.

"Mr. Anderson," Judge O'Connor nearly scolded.

"Sorry, your Honor. Force of habit." Mrs. Buchanan sat down, and she smiled toward the jury and then back at George as the cameras flashed. _What a little Roxie Hart! _Kurt thought.

"Mrs. Buchanan. You are with child, correct?"

"Correct."

"And that child is not your husband's?"

"No, it is not."

"How far are you along, Mrs. Buchanan?"

"Three months."

"And you've had a paternity test?"

"Yes."

"Why? Was there a question on who the father was?"

"No. My husband made me get one when he first suspected that I was pregnant. I am rather slim. It's not hard to see a baby bump!" Kurt rolled his eyes. _And a Daisy Buchanan. This is a recipe for disaster. _

"Your husband? So he thinks you're seeing other men?"

"Oh yes, but I won't deny anything. Things have been rough the last few years with us. Well with him being in Washington all the time, sleeping around with other women, secretaries, I bet. It really takes a toll on your self esteem to have your husband use other women to fill the void he's created for himself. I know this baby isn't his. We haven't had sex in months, and by that I mean at least six!" Kurt heard the Warblers in the back, along with the rest of the room, stifle a laugh. Blaine covered his face and shook his head.

George cleared his throat and looked out on the room. "So what you're saying is that you don't deny sleeping around, because you were lonely and were having troubles at home. Why didn't you just divorce him then?"

"He said he would kill me if I ever left him! He has ways! He'd find my family wherever we went, and he would make our lives hell!" The jury started to murmur again, and Pamela started to cry. George made a B line across the floor to Mrs. Buchanan and handed her the handkerchief from his suit pocket as Judge O'Connor demanded order. George stepped back as the room quieted. "No more questions your Honor."

Pamela went to stand up, but at that moment, so did her husband. "I have some questions for Mrs. Buchanan." His voice cut through the room like a serrated knife.

"Proceed." Mrs. Buchanan sat back down and crossed her legs uncomfortably as her husband approached the bench.

"This isn't the first time you've had a child with someone other than me. Tell me, is the same man that impregnated you with Blaine the same one that got you pregnant again?" She looked toward George, and then down at her lap and nodded.

"Y-Yes."

"Okay, so it's someone whom you have known for more than 18 years." He turned back to the jury. "Do you know the answer to the mystery yet? I know the answer." He smiled at the jury, but Kurt knew that there was nothing but evil in the grin, the satisfaction of the trump card. His smile disappeared as he turned back to his wife. "Why did you do it, Pamela? We were newlyweds!"

"Objection your Honor, the question is argumentative."

"Sustained"

"I could ask you the same thing! You didn't even come home after the honeymoon. You shipped me back here while you went off to Washington to screw your whore!" The back row filled the courtroom with several pitches of "ooooooo"

"Mr. Anderson, control your client."

It was like a giant tennis match. Words were being thrown faster than Kurt could keep up, but for the first time during the whole trail, Blaine seemed at ease. He sat back in his chair with his arms crossed and head up, looking straight ahead, but not at anyone in the room. He took a deep breath in and then let it out just as slowly.

"Senator Buchanan, I believe you're quite finished."

"Yes, your Honor. No further questions." He retreated back to his desk with his hands in his pockets. Score one for the prosecution.

"Your next witness, Mr. Anderson?"

"I call Blaine Anderson to the stand." He took another deep breath, stood up slowly and then turned slightly toward the audience, taking in just who was watching him, who would judge him even if they didn't need to. Kurt reached out to give his hand a little squeeze, but Blaine just smiled at him.

"Oh yeah!"

Kurt jumped in his seat, as well as half the court room, as it was filled with sound starting from the back row. Everyone in the room turned to see the Warblers file out of their seats and surround the room with music. Blaine kept glancing at Judge O'Connor, expecting that she would stop him, but she did nothing of the sort as he began dancing around the floor.

_So scared of breaking it  
But you won't let it bend  
And I wrote two hundred letters  
I won't ever send  
Somehow these cuts are so much  
Deeper then they seem  
You'd rather cover up  
I'd rather let them be_

Blaine didn't hold back. He did all of his customary moves with lots of gesticulations. Kurt couldn't help but get up and sing and dance as well, along with the rest of the Warblers around the outer edges of the room. He looked up toward the front of the room, and saw Blaine throw his jacket back into his chair. With just as much suave, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. Kurt realized then that he'd never seen Blaine's arms before, and now he knew why. His arms were black and blue, covered in a pattern of bruises that looked to Kurt like a strong grip. He held his hands up high, flashing his bruises like battle scars to the jury

_So let me be  
And I'll set you free  
I am in misery  
There ain't no other  
Who can comfort me  
Why won't you answer me?  
Your silence is slowly killing me  
Sir, you really got me bad  
You really got me bad  
I'm gonna get you back  
Gonna get you back_

_Your salty skin and how  
It mixes in with mine  
The way it feels to be  
Completely intertwined  
It's not that I didn't care  
It's that I didn't know  
It's not what I didn't feel,  
It's what I didn't show  
So let me be  
And I'll set you free_

_I am in misery  
There ain't no other  
Who can comfort me  
Why won't you answer me?  
Your silence is slowly killing me  
Sir, you really got me bad  
You really got me bad  
I'm gonna get you back  
Gonna get you back_

_Say your faith is shaken  
You may be mistaken  
You keep me wide awake and  
Waiting for the sun  
I'm desperate and confused  
So far away from you  
I'm getting here  
Don't care where I have to go_

Kurt took note of Blaine's expression. He looked almost…angry. He directed himself toward Mr. Buchanan, who looked completely floored and _why don't you stop this ridiculous show, your Honor?_ He tried to call out to Judge O'Connor several times, but she wasn't listening any longer. Blaine went over to the defendant's table, and stood right in front of it, eyes locked on the Senator as he started to bang his fists on the table.

_Why do you do what you do to me, yeah?  
Why won't you answer me, answer me yeah?  
Why do you do what you do to me yeah?  
Why won't you answer me, answer me yeah!_

Only then did Blaine finish with his signature move. He put his hands on the table, jumped and managed to plant his feet firmly on the tabletop. He smiled at the jury, and kept on dancing. He closed Mr. Buchanan's briefcase with a swift move of his ankle. Paper's slid under his feet and Mr. Buchanan stood up in astonishment at what the boy he raised was doing in a high court! He tried to grab at Blaine's legs, but he jumped out of the grip and onto the floor

_I am in misery  
There ain't no other  
Who can comfort me  
Why won't you answer me?  
Your silence is slowly killing me  
Girl you really got me bad  
You really got me bad  
I'm gonna get you back  
Gonna get you back_

Blaine sat down at the stand on the last note, legs crossed, ready for anything that the world could shoot at him. The Warbler's took their seats after giving each other high fives. Kurt gave Blaine a thumbs up, and he returned the gesture with a smile. The audience was still talking about what had just occurred, and the reporters were in a frenzy, asking around "What song was that?" quietly to each other before Judge O'Connor finally declared order in the courtroom, though Kurt could see a smile on her face.

"That was quite a show, Mr. Buchanan."

"Thank you, your Honor. It just, helps me calm down. The other boys can agree, but I hope you all got the message." There were some chuckles as he rolled his sleeves back down and buttoned the cuffs. "You may proceed, Mr. Anderson," Judge O'Connor said, still hiding her smile behind her hand. George smiled and shook his head. The whole atmosphere in the court room had warmed up after Mr. Buchanan had frozen it. Kurt could already sense a fan favorite.

"You know now that it's time to get serious?" he asked.

"Yes, I understand." George smiled at him to loosen him up.

"How would you describe life with the defendant?" There was a pause. Blaine licked his lips and kept his eyes away from the man in question.

"Well…it's…it's tense. That's the best way I can describe it. Whenever he's home, I feel like I can't be myself. That little show you all just saw, it wouldn't have happened at my house. I feel more comfortable singing and dancing in front of an audience than at home, even in the solitude of my own room. It's…hard being gay and living in the house of a very conservative and intolerant man."

"What does Mr. Buchanan do to make you feel so uncomfortable?" George kept close to Blaine, just as he had with Mrs. Buchanan for most of her questioning.

"Where do I start?" Blaine chuckled, but a glance in Mr. Buchanan's direction ceased that. "Well…he's always been a bit…aloof around me. I hate it when he's silent, it means that something bad is about to happen. He's…building up."

"What happens after he 'builds up'?" Blaine didn't answer right away. He was choosing his words carefully. He needed to choose words that wouldn't get him killed.

"Well…it depends. Sometimes he'll just scream, but most of the time he…gets physical. He likes to shove, especially into things. And he'll kick me between the legs a lot." His posture became more stiff, guarded.

"When was the last incident of physical aggression?"

"January 3rd." Kurt drew in a sharp breath. He'd had dinner with them that very night! Mr. Buchanan had been quite cagey that night. Had he been building up, or recuperating after an attack? George turned toward the jury and the judge.

"When these attacks became more frequent, I took a habit to tape them, should this occasion ever present itself. If you would please direct your attention toward the screen, we'll begin with one of the first tapes. This was filmed almost 3 years ago, when Blaine was a freshman at a different school. He had just come out to me and his mother." He stood back, and the moment Blaine saw the first seconds of the tape, he turned away.

_Mr. Buchanan paced in the area between his desk and Blaine, seated straight up in a wooden chair. There was silence as the viewer peered through a crack in the door. "This isn't true, right? Some cry for attention?"_

"_No…why would I lie about this, especially toward George or mom?"_

"_No son of mine is going to be a homosexual."_

"_Well, then I suppose that's fine, considering I'm not your son!"_

"_Who told you that?" Mr. Buchanan had stopped pacing and now stood rigid in front of Blaine. He didn't answer the question. "WHO, TOLD, YOU, THAT?" He still remained silent. Mr. Buchanan's arm lashed out like the neck of a cobra, and bit down on Blaine's shoulder rough enough to drag him out of the chair. There was a moment of blindness as the person filming retreated away from the door and into another room. Mr. Buchanan hauled Blaine past the room the viewer took refuge in, and took him into Blaine's bedroom. The filmmaker followed, and the next thing seen was Mr. Buchanan throwing Blaine into his walk in closet. "Now you stay in there, in the closet, where you belong!"_

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this! I'm updating like crazy! I hope quantity isn't diminishing quality here! I love reviews to keep me motivated_!_**_  
_


	9. Exposure

For once, there was silent in the court room. No one knew exactly what to say. Then again, their parents had probably taught them that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Mr. Buchanan's parents obviously hadn't taught him that. Blaine didn't really look at anything in particular, but he definitely wasn't looking at the screen, or George, or the Judge, or Mr. Buchanan. He just looked like a normal high school student, bored in the middle of a lecture. He rubbed his sweaty palm on his slacks, scratched at his ear and took a deep breath in and out. "You're all silent. Don't you know that's not even the worst of it?" George asked the jury. He put in tapes, one after another. Each attack was different, each more heart breaking than the previous. All Kurt could think about during each video was _stop him, George! _But they kept coming. Until the last tape. January third, two thousand eleven.

"There is a bit that isn't taped on here," Blaine prefaced. "My friend Kurt had just gone home, and I was watching him drive away, out on my walkway. It was pretty slippery. Mr. Buchanan came out after Kurt had driven away and I was walking back inside, and he shoved me, and I slipped on the walk, and hit my head pretty hard. He then proceeded to pick me up, as if it had been an accident to any witnesses, and then he took me inside." Blaine took a deep breath. "And if you are squeamish, you will want to cover your eyes."

Kurt's eyes widened, looked up, and saw the angle of the camera was rather high. The picture was perfectly stable, and then Kurt realized something that nearly made him sick. _It's a security camera…he's always being watched. _He shook his head and turned his attention to the silent movie.

Blaine held the back of his head as he walked inside in front of Mr. Buchanan. Once the door closed behind them, Mr. Buchanan shoved Blaine against the wall, and started to violently gesticulate toward him, and the door. Blaine kept his hand against the back of his head as he lowly shook it. Mr. Buchanan didn't let up with the verbal assault until George came over to them and grabbed his boss by the shoulders. Mr. Buchanan turned around, and his watch connected with the side of George's head. The butler fell to the side and put pressure on his wound. Mr. Buchanan had a new verbal victim. Blaine struggled to push himself up. Kurt noticed his mouth get wider and louder looking, until Mr. Buchanan turned away from George and back to him. Both stood, facing each other in a tense silence, until Mr. Buchanan's fist flew away from him and torpedoed into Blaine's stomach.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And aga-

That's when Kurt wished he had covered his eyes.

Blaine's stomach gave out and the several course dinner ended up down Mr. Buchanan's front.

Kurt gasped loudly over the entire group. "Oh my goodness!"

The Warblers stood up and began shouting.

The jury spoke to each other, but not loud enough for Kurt to hear them.

"Order! Order!"

"Fucking pig! You're sick!"

"Oh my goodness…"

"This is the kind of scum running America?"

"Order!"

"Oh my goodness…"

"ORDER! Or this may be deemed a mistrial!" The court quieted at the threat. Kurt looked at the screen, the end of the video. Blaine had collapsed back on the ground. Mr. Buchanan was no longer on screen, and Pamela filled the spot instead, kneeling in front of her son and George, who was slowly coming to, though it was apparent that he was bleeding. Time was frozen, but Blaine was not. He was shaking on the witness stand, as if experiencing a case of hypothermia. He couldn't even stand up and walk back to the table without George helping him up and guiding him. When he sat back down in front of Kurt, Pamela reached over and put her hand on his knee, but it was George who wrapped an arm around him and held him close enough to whisper into his ear, not instructions of a lawyer, but words of comfort like a…

"The prosecution rests, your honor."

Blaine's shaking failed to cease. George needed to let go of Blaine to get his argument ready for the closing statement, so Kurt reached forward and put his hand on Blaine's shoulder, and rubbed his thumb back and forth, back and forth over it. "Kurt…" He looked up and saw Blaine's hand try to grab his own. He leaned forward even more, so Blaine and he could comfortably hold hands in the court room. The flashes went off every few seconds, but neither of them cared for anything else at this point, just the soft touch of the hands.

"Mr. Buchanan, if you'd like to excuse yourself to compose yourself, feel free," Judge O'Conner suggested. Blaine nodded, and stood up, but only with the help of George and Kurt. The reporters and their cameramen jumped on the shot of Blaine in a near trance like state, walking out of the courtroom by the aid of his attorney and boyfriend. All eyes were on the trio as they made that long walk, twenty feet down the center aisle. Kurt looked toward the Warblers when they passed them, and they just shook their heads in absolute disbelief at the drastic transformation of their soloist. Fifteen minutes ago, he had been dancing all over the courtroom and on Mr. Buchanan's table. Now, he couldn't even walk by himself.

George and Kurt set Blaine down on the ground just outside the courtroom. Both knelt down, but George really made sure that Blaine didn't fall over. "I'm sorry, Blaine…I shouldn't have showed those clips. Not all at once, and not in front of you." His voice was quiet and comforting.

"No…it…it was needed. I'm j-just glad that p-p-people will finally see him f-for who he really is, even at m-my expense. I mean…if he did this to a grown kid, then…then what would he do to a baby?" George nodded, then reached out and rested his hand against Blaine's forehead. The boy closed his eyes and Kurt was sure that he saw a slight smile appear on his lips, if only for a second, and his shaking diminished. Kurt noticed a connection between them, until anything he'd ever seen. He started to walk down the hallway to get Blaine some water, and as he back away, he started to notice something else. Their profiles, their faces, their features.

The same.

It was as if Blaine was looking into a mirror of the future. They had the same tiny grin, and the same smile when wide. Their eyebrows were prominent on both of their foreheads. George's hair was a salt and pepper black and gray, just as Kurt presumed Blaine's would be eventually. Even their style of glasses was the same. The only real difference he saw was their heights, and their eyes. George's were a bright blue, while Blaine's were that mysterious golden color. The realization hit Kurt like a slushie in the face. He cupped his hand over his mouth and back away so quickly he nearly fell over himself. He ran into the bathroom and just looked at his bewildered expression for a few moments. He splashed cold water on his face, and then once he'd dried it off, he took another few paper towels and soaked them in cold water for Blaine. When he left the bathroom, George had disappeared inside for his closing statement, but Blaine was lying on the cool ground. When he heard Kurt's footsteps echo through the hall, he picked his head up just centimeters to see who it was. Kurt knelt down in front of him now, dabbing the cool towel on the boy's face.

"Did you and your dad have a nice chat?" he asked with a curious smile. Blaine raised his eyebrows, and his eyes looked tired, but he smiled.

"You figured it out too?"

"I don't know why it took me this long. You two look so much alike." He slipped off Blaine's glasses to dab around his eyes. The boy closed his eyes as if he could fall asleep. "You're so wonderful. How did I get a boyfriend as strong and courageous as you?" Blaine's face contorted into an expression of confusion, but he kept his eyes closed as Kurt dabbed his face.

"Strong and courageous? I just had a nervous breakdown slash panic attack. I can't even really sit up. I needed two people to carry me out. I'm pretty weak, Kurt. You're the strong one here."

"You weren't bullied at your old school, were you?" Blaine stopped for that moment to open his eyes and look at the intricate ceiling, and then at Kurt. "It was your…'dad' that forced you out. That was the bullying going on. There was so much going on at home that you were sent to Dalton just to get out of his sight."

"You're a great detective, Kurt. How'd you figure that out?" Kurt smiled inwardly toward himself.

"Well, you did say that our situations were a little different. Plus, you never really said how you were bullied, or who did it. Your behavior in your own home also sent up a red flag. You were so nervous, so I knew something was going on. You didn't run, like you said when we rest met, at least not entirely. You were chased out." Blaine closed his eyes once more. Kurt watched him for a few moments, just listening to the sound of his breathing. "What are you thinking?"

"It's been quite a day. I would much rather be at regionals. If I hadn't sung that song that almost got us thrown out, I probably would have fainted." Kurt chuckled, but Blaine's face showed nothing but seriousness.

"You need to listen to me more," Kurt said as he started to stroke Blaine's back and shoulder. "You're quite pale…do you feel sick?"

"I just need some water, to drink." Kurt heard some stirring in the courtroom, and the first person out was George, looking a little panicked as well as he looked around for the two of them just before he knelt down in front of Blaine once more, this time with a bottle of water. Blaine pushed himself up carefully, and held the bottle to his lips. "Is the jury out to decide the verdict?"

"Yes. I don't know how long it will take, though. I hope not very long. If we've made our case well enough, they shouldn't even have to go out to deliberate…but protocol, you know? How are you feeling?" Blaine took a deep breath and shrugged.

"Well…I'm still nervous. Even if we get the verdict we want, my whole life is going to change. I don't want to lose Kurt…" The boy looked toward Kurt with pleading, painful eyes. "He matters too much." Kurt tried to smile, but it ended up distorted because of the tears forming behind his eyelids. They gripped hands, but that was the extent of their contact with George right in front of them. They were too busy gazing into each other's eyes to notice the smile on George's face. Other people from the courtroom started to file out into the hallway. The Warblers immediately went over to the trio, but Kurt could tell by their awkward postures that they didn't know how to act

"Hey guys," Blaine said, smiling up at them.

"How can you still be smiling? Goodness, Blaine, you were just ripped to pieces! I wish I could smile after that. I would be crying in the bathroom," Trent said, speaking over the rest of the group.

"If things need to get worse before they get better, then so be it. Plus I'm surrounded by my favorite people." Blaine smiled weakly at all of them and took another sip of water

"I should have known your dad wasn't your dad. I mean, you look nothing alike!" Blaine smiled and looked away from the group as he drank. Kurt caught a glimpse of a photographer and reporter out of the corner of his eye and gave them a glare. "Why are they even here? Aren't there like…regulations against reporters in the courtroom?"

"It depends on the reporter. These people have paid thousands to get into this trial. It deals with a state official, so naturally people will want to get in on the real dirt. It's just…it's just really dirty work because it involves you," George said toward Blaine.

"A minor." George nodded. "It sucks…but I'm just glad you all are here."

"Misery was great. I can't believe we did that!" Thad interjected.

"Well, we didn't get a chance to perform it at the competition, so…"

"Your…dad looked so pissed!"

"We're going to be on national TV!" They all laughed, and the color seemed to return to Blaine's face when he smiled.

George was correct when he said that if they made their case well, the jury wouldn't be out long. When everyone was called back into the room, Blaine's face suddenly paled once more. Kurt felt his heart break. He couldn't stand to see Blaine in such bad shape. He was scared of the people, when he was used to singing in front of auditorium's full of people. Either way, he was able to push himself up onto his feet, and walk in by himself, though George kept a very close watch on him until he was seated in his chair next to Pamela. The room was restless, murmuring to each other, walking back to their seats and watching everyone else do so. The jury was filing in slowly. Kurt glanced over at Mr. Buchanan, who was, for once in his life, looking less than confident. He wrung out his hands, and Kurt swore he saw beads of sweat dampening his brow. His fate was once again in the hands of the voters, and for the first time in a long time, his odds were looking less than positive. Judge O'Conner looked toward the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?"

"We have your Honor." She then turned toward Mr. Buchanan.

"Will the defendant please rise?" Mr. Buchanan did, so quickly his chair tipped back, but didn't fall over. "What is your verdict?"

"We find the defendant, Senator Thomas Buchanan-"

And that's when Blaine fainted into George's lap.


	10. Poor Boys

"Guilty on 13 counts of child abuse!"

"Oh my goodness! Blaine!"

George nearly jumped up from his seat, but Blaine's torso kept him from doing so. Judge O'Conner stood up from her seat. One of the jurors jumped over to the group, and it was at that point when the Warblers stood up as well, trying to see what the fuss was all about with their leader.

"Someone get him some water!" Kurt cried as he pushed his way out of the row and over to George and Blaine. George was fanning Blaine with a stack of papers as the juror, an EMT, took his pulse by his wrist.

"Lay him down on the ground," the man said calmly. The three of them moved the table and set Blaine down gently. "When was the last time he ate?" George and Kurt looked at each other.

"I gave him some breakfast, but he didn't eat much of it because of his nerves."

"I haven't seen him eat anything today," Kurt said with wide eyes, brimming with clear tears.

"Then it's probably just a huge drop in his blood sugar. He doesn't need water, he needs juice."

"I'll go get a Gatorade from the vending machine," someone called.

"Blaine…oh gosh, Blaine." Kurt looked up at George, who looked more distressed than he had anytime during the trial. He held Blaine's head on his lap and seemed to be biting his lip to keep from tearing up too much. He cared for Blaine more than any other father Kurt had seen. He could even compete against Burt. If Kurt hadn't realized their connection in the hallway, he would have at that moment. The relationship was so beautiful, so picturesque, but no one wanted the shot. The love was overshadowed by a photo of Ohio's senator being taken away in handcuffs.

Mrs. Pamela, though, was a different story. She had more of a deer in headlights look plastered to her face. She could only stare at her son, but she couldn't do anything about it. Kurt immediately realized that it wasn't that she couldn't do anything, but had no idea what to do. She hadn't raised her son. Kurt imagined Blaine as a young boy, running to her with a scraped knee, only to have her redirect him to George. It wasn't entirely her fault, because she was probably raised that way as well, but Kurt still couldn't help but feel anger toward her. _Help your lover! You won, Mrs. Buchanan! Show some sympathy to the men that helped you do so!_

Kurt didn't even look up when the door closed behind a bound Senator Buchanan.

"Is he going to need to be taken to the hospital?" George desperately asked the juror.

"It wouldn't be the worst idea in the world. I mean, I'm sure he'll be fine, but just as a precaution." George nodded, and the man sent a message to the station to send an ambulance. Kurt couldn't hear the words that anyone spoke. It was just him and Blaine. He looked as peaceful as ever, yet that fact did nothing but frighten Kurt. The whole day, Blaine's face had been full of fear, weakness and tension, and Kurt had only thought that he had every reason to feel that way. Now that Blaine's countenance was angelic and serene, he was terrified. It was beautiful, but the way his eyes relaxed, and the way his lips parted just slightly sent Kurt back a decade. He recalled looking into his mother's coffin, her hair done neatly, clothed in her favorite powder blue dress from Macy's. He wouldn't, couldn't live through another moment like that. He just watched Pavoratti die singing in his bedroom. He couldn't bear to see anyone else come close to anything like that.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

He was singing the words before he could even think about the song. It came like a reflex to a somber situation. Blackbird was one of his mother's favorite songs, and he'd just sung it for the Warblers in remembrance of Pavoratti. He never thought that he would sing it about Blaine, or how well it would fit the boy's life. As he started the second verse, he heard George join in with him, in the background, the exact part that Blaine had sung for a while during the Warbler meeting.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to be free_

_Blackbird, fly_

_Blackbird, fly_

_Into the light of the dark, black night_

The Warblers joined in once they heard him singing just as they had before. They had all congregated toward the front to see Blaine. Kurt felt his eyes fill with tears, but he hid them away from as many people as he could and kept singing. The courtroom fell silent, apart from the singing.

_Blackbird, fly_

_Blackbird, fly_

_Into the light of the dark, black night._

Everyone was quiet. There was no singing. Kurt sniffled, and his emotion state was betrayed to the entire room. He wiped away the moisture with his hand, and looked down at Blaine once more. He leaned down and kissed him tenderly, the only thing he felt was fitting. He wished that Blaine was like Sleeping Beauty, and that he would wake up with the touch of their lips, but he didn't. No matter how sweet he claimed Kurt was, his lips weren't sugar, and they wouldn't cause him to open his eyes. "This is too much…" Kurt muttered to himself. The man that ran out to get the juice came back into the court room.

"Blaine…Blaine you need to wake up so you can drink." George propped Blaine up against his own torso, and the boy's eyes flickered before he opened them just slightly, as if he just woke up from a long nap. He looked a bit bewildered, having everyone kneeling around him.

"What happened?" he asked groggily. Kurt almost chuckled, because it was the same tone he used when he woke up after Rachel's party in his bed, but then he remembered how upset he was with him for neglecting his own health.

"You passed out because you haven't eaten anything all day," Kurt scolded. Blaine looked down at the ground, and the bottle of apple juice was passed into the crowd. He took it with a trembling hand and raised it to his lips.

"You haven't been eating nearly as much as usual," George added. Blaine didn't look up from the floor, and when he had to tip his head back to drink, he closed his eyes to avoid eye contact.

"Not in front of all these people…" he mumbled into the bottle. He kept drinking without looking at anyone.

"An ambulance is coming for you soon, Blaine," Kurt said as he took the boy's free hand. Blaine's eyes lifted, and the look he gave Kurt almost made him cry. He looked so frightened, his eyes round like a kitten's, and his expressive eyebrows sloping wearily upward. "They don't want this to happen to you again. _We _don't want this happening to you again." Blaine screwed the cap lazily on as he nodded in understanding. He set the drink aside, and lay down in Kurt's lap. George got up, and started to shoo everyone else away to give him some breathing space.

"I'm sorry, Kurt…" he said, closing his eyes once more as he adjusted himself to a comfortable position.

"Shh….you're okay." Kurt whispered as he ran his fingers through Blaine's hair, freeing the curls from their gel prison.

"I don't want to leave you."

"Don't worry about that now." They sat in silence, until George and Judge O'Conner shooed everyone out of the court room, except for the EMT. The only sounds left in the courtroom where the clicking of shoes, and the calming sound of air rushing in and out of lungs, like a tide onto a beach.

"That was a wonderful trial, Mr. Anderson," Judge O'Conner said as she headed toward the door. "For someone who hasn't been in the courtroom in two decades, you made your case very well."

"It was emotionally driven, and I know the books say to avoid that in trials, but that was the only way that we could survive. I'm glad justice was served today, your Honor. It's been a pleasure." George bowed his head to the woman and she smiled.

"A true gentleman. Well, I'll leave you all alone. I certainly trust that you won't cause too much trouble. Good luck, Mr. Buchanan, Mrs. Buchanan, Mr. Hummel." She smiled at all of them, though Kurt didn't look up.

"Thank you, your Honor," the boy said flatly, before she left the room. The sound of the door closing resonated throughout the nearly empty room. The EMT stood up.

"I'm going to find the rest of the team. Just stay where you are, keep on drinking." He stood up, and left the room as well, leaving no one but the prosecution and Kurt. Pamela got up from her seat, ran over to George and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you, oh thank you!" She cried with a smile on her face. George embraced her with just as much gusto. "I knew you would put him in his place!"

"We've been waiting for this day since the day we met," George said as they loosened their embrace. Kurt looked up at them at that moment. He saw George smiling down at the smaller woman, but Pamela's smile seemed to falter. "You were never meant to be married to him."

"But us?"

"Us." Pamela's smile completely disappeared, and while she remained in George's tender embrace, she looked anywhere but his face. "What's the matter? We've wanted to be married…" the butler mentioned in a much lower tone.

"You've wanted to be married." She turned her face away from all of them. "Don't you know how it works? Rich girls don't marry poor boys, George Anderson." She sniffled, and Kurt could tell that she began to cry. "Rich girls don't marry poor boys!" She pushed herself out of George's arms, though his shock had practically opened them anyway, and she ran out of the courtroom, and down the hall. Kurt and Blaine turned their attention toward George, who had a look of pure bewilderment on his face. He didn't even go after her, but he stood there, staring away from both of them, toward the door.

"George…" Blaine breathed. The man didn't stop staring until Blaine called to him again, but this time, he called him by a different name.

"Dad…"

George turned immediately, and he took a deep breath in to keep from tearing up. He lost his composure faster than Kurt had ever seen before. He nearly fell over himself rushing over to his son. He embraced Blaine with his whole heart. Kurt pushed himself out of the way to let them have their moment. George immediately started crying on his son's shoulder.George was clinging to Blaine, as if he'd found a vital piece of himself that he couldn't afford to let go of. _He's been waiting to hear that name for so long,_ Kurt though. It was the most beautiful realization he'd ever seen, something straight out of a movie.

Right up until something ruined it all.

"Over here!" The juror said as he brought the team in on a stretcher. George reluctantly let go of his son, and Kurt saw his face, both of their faces stained with tears. Blaine was swarmed with EMTs, but George intervened. "Please…give him some air please," he pleaded. Some of the men backed off once they got Blaine on the stretcher. He looked so pale against the white sheet that covered the padding, but his face showed nothing but peace, like he could fall asleep on the thin mattress. He laid back, closed his eyes…

"Try to stay awake, for us, son," The juror said. Blaine half opened his eyes and sighed. The EMTs worked for a little while longer, before they simply took him out to the ambulance. Kurt didn't follow them, and neither did George. They were alone, silent, until George put his hand on Kurt's shoulder. The boy looked over toward the man. "I'll walk you out to your car…"

"Thank you, George." The two walked quietly through the hall. The EMTs had made quite a gap between them, so there echo consisted only of their shoes. "George?"

"Yes, Master Hummel?"

"Do you sing your feelings, like Blaine?" George chuckled and looked down at the watch he procured from his coat pocket.

"Well he had to learn it from somewhere, didn't he?"

"What would you sing right now?" George's smile immediately disappeared, and he focused his gaze beyond the end of the hallway. He and Kurt fell into step with each other, and it sounded as if only one person was walking.

"Well…there is one song that seems to fit. Oh what is the name of it? Some mainstream song. About…oh…standing in front of a train and catching a-"

"Grenade by Bruno Mars?"

"Yes, yes that one." Kurt turned toward George and his eyes filled with pity, yet the man just kept looking forward until they reached the atrium. "George."

"Yes?"

"I don't have to head home at this moment. I want to know that everyone is alright, including you. Quite a lot has happened today."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you should sing. I could help. It helped Blaine." George's expression blanked away, before he began to chuckle.

"Now now, let's not go so far. Unlike Blaine, I have a more difficult time singing at the drop of a hat, especially to songs I've only heard a handful of times." Kurt objected, but George retaliated. "Master Hummel, please." Kurt was surprised by the calm tone that George kept, though he knew that he shouldn't argue any longer. He was so unlike Mr. Buchanan, who would have called him a name and told him to shut his trap before he spread the gay like a virus. George simply put his hand on Kurt's shoulder once more and took him out of the building. The reporters were set up all around the building, reporting the verdict. George pulled Kurt behind one of the large pillars, as if they were all Nazis in a WW2 movie and they were Indiana Jones and whatever girl he was protecting at the time.

"What are we gonna do, Dr. Jones?" George scanned the area.

"What kind of adventure wouldn't have a few obstacles?"

"Couldn't we just walk? I mean, they can't interrupt their broadcasts."

"I'm sure we could, but there is no fun in that." Kurt chuckled and started to scan around. "We can escape behind the ambulance, where the most people are distracted. The ambulance will also provide adequate cover."

"Good job Not-So-Short-Round! Now keep low." George started to slink against the wall like James Bond, with Kurt following close behind. They could be seen on nearly every video camera, including the one that broadcasted to the Hummel household. Blaine gave them a curious look as they passed by him. Kurt blew him a quick kiss before he disappeared behind the vehicle. The two ran across the road, up a grassy hill (even if they could have taken the stairs) and ran commando-style to Kurt's car.

"Give me your keys," George stage whispered to Kurt about 100 feet from the vehicle. Kurt reached into his pocket, and tossed the keys to the butler. The older man pressed his back against the car, arms spread. They paused for a moment in silence, until Kurt heard the familiar _click click _of his Honda unlocking. George swiftly opened the door for Kurt. "Young master." Kurt smiled at the man, and slid into his vehicle. George underhandedly gave the keys back to him.

"Thank you George. You did a great job today. Tell me how things go, okay?"

"Certainly." They smiled at each other, and Kurt started the car. George began to walk back down the grassy hill. Kurt drove around, passed George just before he reached the courthouse, and saw Blaine still in the ambulance, surrounded my medical personnel. Then came the mob. Thomas Buchanan's walk of shame. The police tried to surround them to prevent pictures, but the photographers were just too persistent. Kurt stopped his car, afraid to drive into the vortex of flashes. In his review mirror, he caught a glimpse of Blaine. He was looking directly at the police car, fully awake. When he saw the man who made his life so difficult get pushed into the car, Kurt saw a smile appear on his face, and he knew that one of the EMTs hadn't told a joke.


	11. Let it Go

Blaine didn't return to school immediately after the trial. George thought that it would be best to keep him out of Dalton until the news had blown over. They were the loneliest two weeks of Kurt's life. Warbler practices ceased, and the only time they convened was because they were all dreadfully bored, and they needed to vote on whether they would perform at the Spring Fling with Crawford Country Day. However, even after they voted yes, they still couldn't find the drive to actually make a set list and the meetings dissolved once more. Kurt felt like he could plank on the floor and have more fun than he already was. It was like living in the Twilight zone where everything was full of dread and life was an eternal funeral, and no one had even died!

Almost two months passed since who ordeal and Casey Anthony along with Anthony Weiner overshadowed the small town scandal. Kurt finished his classes for the day, but as he passed by the parking lot on the way to his room, he noticed that the parking space next to his, which had been left empty for the last few weeks, had been filled. His heart started racing, until he realized that he'd never seen the car before. It was a white Ford F150, totally against the Buchanan's style. It was probably just a visitor that didn't know that everyone at Dalton had assigned parking spaces.

There weren't many boys in the dorm yet, since Kurt ended his day earlier than most. He would go through his normal routine. Go up the stairs, unlock the fourth door on the right, go into his room, check his phone on the bed, realize that there were no texts or calls from Blaine, sigh, and then leave to grab a late lunch, alone, again. He didn't know why he kept checking. He hadn't heard from Blaine since he'd gotten home from the hospital the day after the trial, where he said that there would be a lot of changes happening in his life very quickly. He didn't elaborate, even though Kurt practically pleaded with him to do so. Then he just disappeared off the face of the earth. Kurt called, only to find that his number had been disconnected. He called George, same problem. It was as if the Buchanans went into hiding, retreating back into their money and leaving everyone else to pick up the mess they'd made.

And Kurt refused to be a maid.

He left his bag on his bed, grabbed his ID and headed out of his room to satisfy his grumbling stomach. He was about to turn to go back to the stairwell when a sound tickled his ear from behind. It was a quiet voice, only one person, talking to himself. Kurt turned on the balls of his feet, and started to walk down the hallway to investigate. There was an open door, room 411, with boxes piling up outside. He made a b-line toward the door, but he didn't have as much confidence to actually enter. He peaked around the doorframe to see Blaine's room, torn down and nearly bare, like his had been when he first arrived. Kurt felt anger and happiness swell painfully into his chest and throat, like a blocked pipe stemming the flow of a flood.

Blaine faced away from the door as he sat on the bed. He was staring out the window, watching other students walk across the grounds in the pleasant spring weather. He was dressed down in a fitted t-shirt and Kurt's favorite vintage wash jeans, and his hair was unkempt. From far away, Kurt noticed just how pale he had become. He and Kurt were nearly the same color, which was not healthy. What happened in the last weeks that made him look so awful? He looked worse than he had at the actual trial. He wasn't even wearing his contacts. He got up from the bed, and ran his finger through the thin layer of dust that had gathered on his desk during his absence. He shook his head, sighed, and started to move the dust with his index finger, as if writing something. It was as if he'd shed, and all that was left of the former Blaine Buchanan was a mere shell. Kurt couldn't allow himself to simply watch any longer. He knocked on the doorframe, and Blaine nearly jumped out of his skin. He put his hand over his heart, and his writing hand had to mess up what he had been writing as it skidded across the desk.

"Sorry," Kurt mumbled as he took a cautious step into the room.

"It's…okay." Now that Blaine was facing him, Kurt didn't know how he could be so angry with him. He looked exhausted, with dark circles around his once vibrant eyes. He could tell that Blaine was attempting to look healthier than he really was. There was evidence of make up on his face, mostly blush, but it wasn't the right color. He tried to cover up the dark circles, but it had to be with cover up meant for his natural tone. He looked more like a sad, retired clown than a dapper school boy.

"What happened to you? Why didn't you ever call me? Where have you been?" Kurt couldn't stop himself. He'd been waiting weeks to hear from Blaine, and now he was standing right in front of him, trapped in his room like a sickly animal. He would get his answers. His voice was loud and urgent, like a bad cop.

"Kurt, slow down. Just settle…I'm sorry I haven't been here for you these last few months."

"Haven't been here for _me? _Blaine, you look half dead! That's right, you look completely awful! Your jeans are too loose, and last I checked, you didn't fit that well into size small shirts, and you never let your tags hang out. You never had to cover up your face before and use blush to make yourself look the least bit healthy. Are you sicker than they originally thought, or have you done this to yourself?" Kurt had always been an honest person, but he was telling himself even as he was speaking the words, that he was bordering on being brutally honest. He saw Blaine's face fall toward the ground, but Kurt was so full of emotional rage that he only saw that gesture as proof that he was getting through to him. "I'm sorry, Blaine, just you just have a lot of explaining to do."

"I know, I know." He sat back down on the bed, even though it was more of a graceful fall. He patted the spot next to him on the bare, vinyl mattress, and Kurt slowly sat down next to him. Now that they were less than a foot apart, the electricity that had been there started to recharge and Kurt's thigh began to tingle. He didn't know if Blaine felt the same way. His body looked too weak to do much of anything. "I'm sorry I left so suddenly. I told you before the trial that no matter what the outcome was, I would need to go away. It's still going to happen, Kurt. This isn't some fairy tale. It's not a novel that ends happily for us. I've been in and out of the hospital myself the last few weeks, but so has my mom, and if you think I'm in bad shape, you should see her. The pregnancy is taking a harsh toll on her, and it's gotten to the point where her mental state is in question. So in about a week, she and I will be moving out of our house and going to New York to live with her parents."

"You and her? What about George?"

"She doesn't want him around any longer." Kurt's eyes widened in complete shock.

"What do you mean she doesn't want him around anymore? He saved her skin! He's been there whenever her husband hasn't been."

"Her mental state is in question, Kurt." The brunette looked at the darker haired boy and saw just how much his family situation was contributing to his deteriorating health.

"But…as shocking as that is, that doesn't explain why you just cut me out of your life without a goodbye. Perhaps I could have helped you, but you just never let me."

"After the trial, my family had to kind of…stay in the shadows. We changed all of our phone numbers, email addresses, all of our contact information. Then we sold all of our cars, and bought new ones."

"So wait, that truck out there is yours?"

"Yeah, mine."

"Unfortunate. Carry on." Blaine smiled just slightly and then took another deep breath.

"We just wanted to stay under the radar. I haven't been in my house for about a month, since we've been living elsewhere. My mom's family is just…paranoid. It takes its toll on you, moving so often in so short a time period, always looking over your shoulder, and being separated from a life that keeps you…well…alive." It was then that Kurt saw Blaine uniform, neatly folded on the dresser. "And now I need to leave it forever. Dalton is the only place I ever felt really safe. Now I need to leave that too. I'm off to this place I don't really know, and I certainly don't think I belong in, without you, or my dad, or anyone that I can trust. It's all money out there, and I've come to learn that you can't trust money."

Kurt was mentally kicking himself for the attitude he had earlier. He was the last person Blaine needed any difficulties from.

"But…it's not like we'll never see each other again. New York isn't that far away."

"Kurt, be realistic. Even with facebook and Skype and all of those things, our relationship isn't going to be the same. It won't be as real." Kurt's jaw dropped into his lap, and he hated that Blaine wouldn't look up at him. "I hate that this happened so quickly for us Kurt…so fleetingly. But if we're really meant to be, it will all happen again." Kurt pushed himself up from the bed, feeling as if all the pressure in his brain was about to be let loose…again.

"So…so what, are you breaking up with me?" He always hated when someone in a couple asked that when it was completely obvious that's what was going to happen. He didn't realize that they were just in so much shock, they needed that clarification.

"To put it in the worst terms, yes." Blaine stood up, but not with the same urgency as Kurt. He looked like an old man getting up in the morning. "But just because we're not in a relationship doesn't mean that we need to stop being friends. That…that would kill me, Kurt. This is already so hard for me. I don't want to create any extraneous problems." Kurt bit his lip, and Blaine reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. He nearly brushed it away until George appeared in the doorway, more casual than he'd ever seen him in a pair of dark wash jeans and a button down shirt, untucked, under a dark blue cardigan. "Oh, Master Hummel." He didn't look to be in the best of health either.

"We're just saying goodbye," Kurt said quickly. He turned back to Blaine, and erased George from his background. "I'm sorry that this couldn't last longer for us. It was the best thing that's happened to me in…so long."

"Yeah, except you were the best thing to happen to me in…forever." Blaine bit his lip now as his chin started to tremble. He hid his face for a moment and held up a finger in waiting. "I promise we'll see each other again, perhaps one day, if my mom's health allows it."

"Yeah…"

There was an uncomfortable silence between them, the first in their entire relationship as Kurt could remember. They both ended up staring at the floorboard between their feet. Blaine fidgeted awkwardly, and moved his foot around in the slight dust. Kurt heard George walk away, and then looked up once more. "Isn't this the part where you're supposed to kiss me?"

"Is it? I'm not good at romance, Ku-" Their lips were locked together in an instant. At first it felt forced and awkward, but soon their mouths melted together after two months of being apart. It all became as natural as it was before. Blaine placed his hand on the back of Kurt's neck and weaved his fingers into his hair, until it all just became too emotional for him, and he pulled away. "I'm sorry Kurt. I need to go…"

"I'll walk you to your…truck."

"Please don't make this harder. I'm sorry, I just…need to go."

"Aren't you going to say goodbye to the others?" Kurt called as Blaine pushed his way to the hall. The shorter boy paused, and then looked back at Kurt with a smile. "I think it's better for everyone that I don't. Wish them luck though, from me." He picked up the last box outside the door, and started to carry it down the hallway, and down the steps. Kurt wanted so badly to run after him, to tackle him to the ground, lock him away in his room and keep him at his side for the rest of their lives, but he knew he couldn't do that. If you love something, let it go.


	12. Can't Stop Loving You

"Rachel! I just want to relax tonight! It's been a long day…"

"This is relaxing! Just…let loose! God knows that you're allowed to now. I let you have a quiet birthday, so now repay me with a night out." Kurt rolled his eyes, realizing that he wouldn't be escaping her clutches anytime soon, and they were already far enough away from their apartment that he couldn't run away.

"You're lucky I love you." They slowed their pace to something comfortable for Kurt in his knee high boots over his skinny jeans. Rachel told him to get dressed for a night out, at least. He had been sitting in a pair of yoga pants and a WMHS Cheerios shirt, criminal. Now he was decked out in a scarf over a black blazer and a navy blue V neck sweater. Just because it was late winter in New York didn't mean that he couldn't dress fashionably. "I just wanted to relax on my day off."

"We are relaxing, we're just relaxing outside the apartment."

"Then why are you so dressed up?" Kurt gave Rachel another once over. She was wearing opaque black stockings under black leather knee high boots and a maroon wrap dress. Her long trench was also black, but very classy and warm.

"Because I have to wear sweats and t-shirts every other day of my life! When I go out, I go _all_ out." Kurt nodded skeptically and just kept walking. He had learned years ago never to argue with Rachel, and he was happy that she wasn't wearing a sweater from her dad's grandma with wool stockings and Mary-Janes like she had in high school. New York had been very good to her. But that didn't mean that either of them had jobs in their field of interest. Baby steps…

"So why won't you tell me where we're going? You're being very suspicious, Rachel Berry!"

"Can't we be spontaneous? I don't even know where we're going!" Her walk said differently. She was on a mission, her pace brisk and purposeful. If they were going to be spontaneous, Kurt wouldn't feel like he would start sweating to keep up, even in the cold.

"Then how about-"

"Let's see what else we can find!" Kurt rolled his eyes, and just let her lead. He wasn't going to win today. After about a half hour though, he was sure that she was leading him in circles when they passed the same homeless man three times. "Um, Rachel, are you lost?"

"No Kurt, I know exactly where I'm going!" Only then did she turn into a bar that they had passed at more than once.

"A bar?"

"Well you are legal now!" Kurt stopped to hold the door open and gave the girl a look of pure judgment. "What?"

"Rachel Berry plus alcohol does not make a fruity cocktail. I think you've learned that at least a few times." He followed the stubborn girl into the bar, and noticed that it was nearly empty. No surprise, since it was only 5 in the afternoon. There were a few people talking in the corner and in various booths, and the bartender was cleaning glasses as he glanced over at the door to see who had come in, but other than that, they were alone. Rachel looked about the room and settled on a table near the small stage set up on one of the walls. Kurt reluctantly sat down. "Why did you bring me here? You know very well that just because I turned 21 a few days ago, doesn't mean I have any urge to drink. Not tonight."

"I just, thought it would be a lot of fun." She turned and looked around the room once more, and Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"This doesn't seem fun at all. Why do you keep looking around? There is no one he-"

"SURPRISE!" Kurt jumped and put his hand over his heart in shock as the bar filled up with people, and all people that he knew. But it wasn't just the college friends he'd made or his co-workers at the restaurant. He looked around and saw Mercedes, Brittney, Santana, Finn, Puck, Sam, Artie and Tina.

"Oh my goodness!" Kurt cried. He went around and hugged each of them passionately. He hadn't seen any of them in 3 years! Sure he'd spoken to them on the phone and skyped some of them, but it was different when they got a chance to just touch each other. Mercedes looked just as sassy as ever, and Santana hadn't graduated out of her attitude. Brittney still had her bright, ignorant smile with Artie looking just a bit more stylish in his chair. Finn had grown a little bigger from playing college football, and Puck still had his same fohawk cut. He hadn't gone to college, and he was still a badass, but he didn't hesitate in giving Kurt a good man hug. Sam cut his hair so he looked a lot less like Justin Beiber, and Tina was still the colorful haired Steampunk she was before. "I can't believe you're all here! Oh my goodness, Rachel!"

"She tracked all of us down, not very hard with facebook, and found ways to get us all here," Artie interjected. "I had an exam I was going to study for, but she drives a hard bargain…"

"You can always take the class again! You'll never be able to attend another Kurt Hummel becoming totally legal party!" Kurt couldn't believe the wave of nostalgia that flooded over him. He didn't think that anyone would want to take time out of their day just to celebrate his birthday. Yet the bar was nearly full.

"Oh my god, Rachel! You didn't need to do all this!"

"But this isn't even all of it. Kurt, you haven't even seen the entertainment!" Kurt looked around at the group of glee clubbers around him. "But isn't this-?" He jumped when a few techno beats came over the speakers, and he immediately recognized it as a song from years ago, and was expecting Nicki Minaj to come on stage, until a deeper voice from the past followed through. Kurt gasped, and looked around for the source, but had no luck finding it. He looked at Rachel who was beaming from ear to ear.

This one is for the boy with the booming system

Top down, AC with the cooling system

When he come up in the club, he be blazin' up

Got stacks on deck like he savin' up

And he ill, he real, he might got a deal

He pop bottles and he got the right kind of bill

He cold, he dope, he don't sell coke

He always in the air, but he never fly coach

He gonna make me trip, trip, sailor of the ship, ship

When he make it drip, drip kiss him on the lip, lip

That's the kind of dude I was lookin' for

And yes you'll get kissed if you're lookin' cool

I said, excuse me you're a hell of a guy

I mean my, my, my, my you're like pelican fly

I mean, you're so shy and I'm loving your tie

You're like slicker than the guy with the thing on his eye, oh

Yes I did, yes I did, somebody please tell him who the eff I is

I am Blaine Anderson, I mack them dudes up,

back coupes up, and chuck the deuce up

Kurt jumped out of his skin when he felt two hands on his shoulders. He looked behind him and the tears that had been welling up during the song finally fell. His eyes were nearly gold, smiling brightly at him from behind a microphone, and his dark curly locks were gelled into a manageable style for flying across a Broadway stage. Compared to the last time he'd seen him in high school, Blaine looked like every early Hollywood movie beau thrown into one person. He had the same face, but it had matured well beyond his years. He may have even grown an inch or two. But that didn't matter. The fact was that he was right there, at that precise moment, looking at Kurt. He couldn't savor the closeness, because he was on his way up to the stage with a group of other men, who Kurt then recognized as not only the people sitting in the booths, but the men's ensemble from the revival of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Blaine's coworkers.

Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away

Beating like a drum and it's coming your way

Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby

Yeah that's super baby

Got that super baby boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby

Yeah that's super baby

Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, yeah that's super baby

boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, yeah that's super baby

This one is for the boys in the polos

Entrepreneur crackers in the moguls

He could sing with the crew, he could solo

But I think I like him better when he dolo

And I think I like him better with the fitted vest on

He ain't even gotta try to put the mac on

He just gotta give me that look, when he give me that look

Then the boxers comin' off, off, uh

Excuse me, you're a hell of a guy

you know I really got a thing for theatrical guys

I mean, sigh, sickenin' eyes

I can tell that you're in touch with your feminine side

Yes I did, yes I did,

somebody please tell him who the eff I is

I am Blaine Anderson, I mack them dudes up,

back coupes up, and chuck the deuce up

Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away

Beating like a drum and it's coming your way

Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby

Yeah that's super baby

That's super baby boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby

Yeah that's super baby

Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, yeah that's super baby

boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, yeah that's super baby

Blaine returned down to the table at which Kurt sat. He sat down on it and looked right into his eyes. It wasn't just choreography, it was heart, and Kurt could see his eyes begin to sparkle with moisture. At least he wasn't the only one crying at this point. He looked so good in his tailored suit! Blaine reached out and put a hand on Kurt's, and squeezed it.

It was like electricity surging through the two of them, a reestablished connection. Kurt couldn't help but gasp.

See I need you in my life for me to stay

No, no, no, no, no I know you'll stay

No, no, no, no, no don't go away

Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away

Don't you hear that heartbeat comin' your way

Oh it be like, boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby

Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby

Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away

Beating like a drum and it's coming your way

Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby

Yeah that's super baby

That's super baby boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby

Yeah that's super baby

Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, yeah that's super baby

boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, yeah that's super baby

Everyone in the room erupted in applause, but the two boys didn't break their gaze. "Happy Birthday, Kurt," Blaine said in his usual suave voice. He put the microphone back into the stand and descended off the stage. Kurt thought he'd matured well into his twenties into someone he wouldn't even know, but that opinion changed when he ran over to him with a goofy grin on his face in order to hug the still taller boy. Kurt pulled up the mental picture of their last encounter and was thrilled at the differences. He felt so much stronger in his arms, so well put together and so healthy. "My God…just look at you."

"Look at you!" Kurt said, pulling away slightly. "You look so much better, so well put together. I guess Broadway success will do that to you." Blaine shook his head and let his hands fall away.

"It's hardly success."

"Excuse me? You're replacing Daniel Radcliffe for the lead in a musical about success."

"But it's only for 3 weeks." Kurt gave him a playful shove.

"Oh please, stop it. It's more than I can say for three years of school." Kurt worked hard to keep his voice steady through the rapid pounding of his heart beneath his chest. He hadn't experienced these types of emotions in years. His mind told him to just reach down and kiss Blaine, to hold him and never let go like he did last time. He was just so handsome now, he couldn't get over it. His smile was brighter, his hair was shinier and his eyes sparkled gold under the low lights. "So uh, how have you been?"

"Good, good. There is so much I want to tell you about. Wanna come over to my place after the party is over?" He put on a stereotypical flirting face, and Kurt couldn't help but giggle. It looked halfway ridiculous when Blaine worked to look sexy, when it always came so naturally to him. "I mean, not like the party is ever over when you're around."

"Sounds like a…great idea. I can't wait!"

* * *

The party continued until the early hours of the morning. Everyone had a great time, at least until Rachel couldn't hold her liquor and started going crazy. Finn agreed to take her back to her apartment. Everyone else went back to their hotels, while Kurt walked through the crisp night with Blaine. During the party, he just wanted to talk to him again. There had been little contact between them since he left, since he deleted his facebook and changed his phone number. With him by his side though, it was as if they never parted in the Dalton dormitory. Kurt could feel the heat radiating off Blaine's body at their closeness, yet they didn't hold hands or link arms. "Where are you living these days?" Kurt asked as their walk became more prolonged.

"A dressing room in the Al Hirschfeld theater," he said with a chuckle.

"Probably bigger than my apartment. But seriously."

"Seriously, I'm living just outside the theater district. I can't wait to show you." It was twenty minute walk to the building. Kurt expected him to walk through Central Park, but it was nowhere close to the apartment building. The romance would have to wait. It wasn't a bad building, certainly he got money from his trust fund to pay for it. They took the elevator up a couple floors, walked down the hallway to Blaine's residence, walked inside, and flipped on the light.

It wasn't Kurt's apartment, but it wasn't the Great Gatsby mansion that Kurt had seen Blaine living in before. Not by a long shot. The furniture wasn't second hand, at least most of it wasn't, and all the rooms were spotlessly clean, just shy of having plastic on the couches and chairs. It looked like a well-established young adult's apartment, at least until he heard some stirring on the couch facing away from them.

"I'm home," Blaine called out, though the tone made it more of a statement than an announcement. The stirring increased, until Kurt saw a male form rise from the couch. His heart sank, thinking that Blaine had replaced him, until the figure turned around.

"George!" Kurt cried out. The butler walked over to him and wrapped his arms around the younger boy. Unlike with Blaine, Kurt could tell that George had gotten older in the negative sense. His hair was more gray than black, his muscles felt weaker under Kurt's embrace, and more wrinkled had developed on his face. They exchanged introductions, and Kurt didn't even notice Blaine go and leave the room until he returned with a young girl dressed in a little purple nightgown in his arms. She rubbed her eyes, yawned and gave Kurt a curious look. "Kurt, this is my little sister, Amelia." Kurt saw the look on Blaine's face. He looked as happy as he would holding his own daughter. He was beaming, rocking her lightly.

"She tried staying up until you got home. Didn't quite make it, obviously," George said. "The warm milk probably didn't help."

"I told you that worked," Kurt said. He walked over to the girl and smiled at her. "How cute you are." She really was. She had a decent set of bouncy, dark curls, a round cherub face and some of the biggest and most expressive golden eyes Kurt had ever seen, only rivaled by her brother's. What shocked him most though is that after Kurt spoke to her, Blaine removed one hand from around her, put that hand in front of her face, and signed to her.

"Baby sign language?" Kurt asked, looking between them. Blaine and George made eye contact, and then looked at Amelia.

"I told you that my mother's mental health wasn't exactly…stable during the pregnancy. There were several complications that could have happened. Luckily, the only one was that Amelia was born deaf." Kurt gasped. He felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, until he saw Blaine's face. There was no sadness, no regrets, just pride, and the same look was reflected on George's face. "But she's smarter than most of the three year olds in New York. She can read expressions. I swear sometimes she reads my mind." He widened his eyes, raised his eyebrows and made his mouth a small O, and she copied his expression. He then puckered his lips, brought his brows together and looked down at her, and she did the same. They played this game for a while and Kurt just watched him. It was mesmerizing, seeing Blaine in this sort of fatherly light. It was beautiful.

"Blaine, I think she should get back into bed. I don't think you realize the hour," George said with the same calm voice he possessed years ago. Blaine sighed a bit, and then looked at the girl. He made a few more hand motions to her, and she hugged him around his neck. He started to walk away, and Kurt couldn't help but follow him.

He walked into a little girl's paradise, pretty, pink and princess-like. Kurt didn't know much about kids, but he didn't think that a three year old could have enough interest in anything to create such a room. There were Disney characters everywhere, in little plastic frames around the bed, on the comforter, on the vanity in the form of Barbie dolls, everywhere. Blaine laid the little girl down as if she were a precious piece of porcelain, and pulled the covers up to her chin. Blaine sat down on the edge of the bed, smiled at her, and gave her a kiss on the forehead good night. Then he sat there and ran his fingers through her hair, over and over, until her eyes closed and she fell into sleep once more.

Kurt couldn't help but tear up at the sight before him. He couldn't help but believe that this little girl saved Blaine's life. This will be the girl that goes to his performance of How to Succeed, even though she won't understand the plot or even hear the music. They'd learn sign language together. He'd walk her to school, protect her from bullies, everything. He'd never seen such a loving relationship between siblings. Maybe it was because Blaine was almost nineteen years older than her, or because Blaine felt like he needed to care for someone, like he never really was. Whatever the reason, it was beautiful, and Blaine seemed happy, beyond so.

"This is one of my favorite parts of the day," Blaine said as he continued with her hair. For a split second Kurt feared that Amelia would wake up because of the sudden noise. "I could sit here for hours, and just do this. I can't tell her that I love her when her eyes are closed, but I can still communicate it. Don't get me wrong, George was a great father. But I just want to be the big brother I wish I had. Or the dad I never knew I had. Or the father I'll probably never be." Kurt wiped the tears that had been brewing in his eyes away. He walked over to the bed and carefully sat down next to Blaine. He started rubbing his back.

"If that's your goal, you're doing a great job. I've…never seen you like this before." Blaine turned around and looked at Kurt, ceasing to stroke Amelia's locks. He took his hand away and turned around completely. Kurt felt like they hadn't been so close since they sat on the bed on their last day together three years prior, but he knew they'd sat and talked at the bar, but now that Kurt could really see him, they felt inches apart. "I like seeing you like this," he added quietly. Blaine smiled at him, and then looked at the girl once more.

"I guess I've been filling a bit of a void. The one you filled from the day we met. I'm sorry I didn't contact you. I guess it just hurt too much, not being able to see you…really see you. And I had a lot of issues I needed to work out. I didn't want to drag you down with me. What with my mom, and her parents being just as withdrawn as herself, and I was trying to find a way to get back to George. It was just…a lot to handle. I dropped out of theater school to help with Amelia, since no one seemed to care for her. I just didn't have time for a relationship. Even so though…" he reached out and took Kurt's hand and put it on his lap between them. "You've always been on my mind."

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand. "Then why didn't you just touch base? You obviously talked to Rachel. How come you couldn't just…call me? I thought you died to be honest, after how I saw you in that dorm room. There have been other guys in my life, Blaine. There isn't one right now, but I figured that you wanted me to move on. I'm flattered that you hung onto me…but just one phone call."

"I know Kurt…I know. I messed up, and after all that time saying that I didn't want to mess things up with you." He took a deep breath in and out. "When I was sitting hidden from view before I was supposed to sing, I saw a glimpse of you and my heart jumped and it shocked me. I started crying." He let go of one of Kurt's hands to wipe away the impending tears once more. "You gave me the best year of my life, Kurt. Life hasn't been the same since, and it all just came back to me. I hate to say this to you after all you just said, but I realize now that I have been waiting for you all along." There were moments of silence, neither comfortable or uncomfortable, just silence. They both kept their hands between them, sitting on the little pink bed, not looking into each other's eyes. The silence was broken by the sound of Kurt sniffling only once, and it made Blaine look up in concern. "Kurt?"

"Don't you ever leave me again! Don't you dare!" Blaine reached out and put his hands on Kurt's cheeks, gently cupping them to catch the falling tears.

"If we weren't meant to be together, I don't think that this would have happened. I love you, Kurt. I don't think that will ever change for me. So many other things have been changing, but you have stayed the same in my heart. I'm crazy for you…and I hope that you still feel the same for me." Kurt smiled at him, and their eyes not only connected, but transported them into each other's souls. Blaine leaned forward a bit, closed his eyes and Kurt followed. It felt like eternity before their lips finally joined after so many years. Blaine couldn't help but lean in further and put his hand behind Kurt's head to keep him there. Kurt copied by wrapping his arms around his neck. The puzzle pieces fell together and created the perfect picture. They both knew at that moment that they had both waited for each other again, that this was how it was meant to be all along, but there just had to be bumps in the road to get there. One day they would make no ordinary family.

* * *

**Well guys, this is the end! It's been a great ride, and I can't believe I've finished it! I've never finished a fan fiction before, so sorry if the ending is kind of bad. There may or may not be a sequel, but no matter what happens, thanks for being here with me, reviewing, and keeping me writing!**


End file.
